#I was scraping the barrel a bit for each person but I think I have quite a few badges that make me think 'Vyv/Neil/Mike would wear that' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years

Text

Kaz Brekker x fem! Ghafa! Reader - Selfish

A/n: So I wasn't fully happy how this turned out but it's fine! Also btw I changed the title it was previously There for you, there for me?

Warnings: Heart break, language, it has Kaz in it so... I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Inej your sister is coming back and you know it's selfish but maybe you don't want her to return?

You knew you it was stupid, they all warned you not to. But how could you not? Those raven locks and those deep cold eyes that drew you into a endless ocean of Kaz Brekker. You knew it was silly, crazy even, but maybe that's what the world needed? Did the world need the impossible? The insane? The crazy parts?

When the ice court heist left everyone in shambles trying quickly to pick up the pieces of what you had all lost, and gained. While Nina and Matthias went off to Fjerda, Wylan and Jesper ran the markets, and Inej went off fighting slavers, you...

You stayed.

You stayed for the man that your sister held his heart, the man that you fell for. Staying in Ketterdam surprised everyone, staying with the dregs surprised them even more. You could have left with Inej, you had also been trapped in the menagerie, but your heart had told you to stop listening to your head for second. Would you be happy if you did?

No.

It was the simple yet complicated answer. You realized that you would never be happy as the barrel had become a way of life for you. You were a goddess here, why would you let that go? Ya it was selfish but the sea would shallow you whole with memories you didn't need, they almost did on the ice court heist.

You scale a building as you rip open a letter from your sister giddily, awaiting to see the words on the page that were meant for you. Taking the letter out of the envelope, your smile slowly starts to fade away into a frown as your eyes go down the page.

Dear sister,

The seas have been treating me well, the slavers seems to be cooling down a bit which leads me to my next point of this letter. I'm coming back to visit Ketterdam! I really don't know how you live there, remember the seas are always open for you! Also can you do me a quick favor and in this envelope there's another note inside here for Kaz, can you deliver it for me? Thank you!

May the Saints bless you,

With lots of love, your sister;

Inej

Dread filled you up. Maybe it was selfish however perhaps selflessness wasn't one of your qualities. But you didn't want Inej to come back, you had started something with Kaz. Building anything with Kaz was hard, much less a relationship. Would he choose her over you? The possibilities were endless of what could happen, but you saw very little outcomes where you and Kaz would stay together.

Of course he would choose her, why wouldn't he? You call yourself a goddess, yet your worried what might happen if your little lover might come into contact with your sister. Ha! Your nothing compared to the Wraith.

Shut it. You think, but the truth still lays there right in front of you. It was out in the open and you couldn't ignore it anymore. But what would you do?

Be happy for them. A voice in the back of your head whispers sadly.

Yes, that's what you would do. If they would want to be together you would help them. Selflessness may not be one of the qualities you possessed but you somehow had grabbed it off of someone else shelf. It was in your hands now, and you were going to use it.

As you start to walk back over to the Slat, one thought remains in your mind at the plan you had just formed.

What about you?

+++++++++++TIME SKIP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You wait on the docks beside Kaz, as you two stand side by side waiting for the boat The Wraith to unload. Wylan and Jesper are also there, talking to each other like there's no tomorrow. They're probably just trying to shake off the nerves. You know you are.

You nervously fiddle with your hands as it feels like Inej's crew takes forever to unload everything and start getting everything together. You may not have wanted your sister to come back but you still wanted her to be safe.

And alive. That would be enjoyable.

Finally after what seemed like a century you see the girl come out from the boat and step onto the docks. A single beam of sun light somehow seems to hit her face perfectly as she does and it makes her look like a saint.

Jealousy fills and bubbles in your gut heating to a boiling point. But you push it down because thank the saints she came back alive and unhurt. You pull her into a hug as she comes close enough to you.

While pulling away you smile at her, one of the things that you don't do very often, even so you only really do for two people. Internally you cringe for thinking about Kaz and Inej in the same thought process.

Be happy for them.

Wylan and Jesper go in for a hug and Kaz just's nods at her not liking touch. Though, his eyes still shines a certain way when he looks at her.

"How did the sea's treat you?" Kaz ask's her and Inej goes into a whole delivery of stories about her time at sea. You all started walking to a near waffle house and the one group suddenly turns into two. With Inej, Kaz, Jesper, and Wylan at the front, and you walking in the back. Alone.

For a split second you wished Nina and Matthias were here. Although Nina would like to listen to Inej's sea stories she would have stayed with you. But this is as it should be.

You didn't deserve that kind of kindness.

They go into the waffle house and you step aside into the darkness on the street, you were no Wraith but you were still a Ghafa.

They don't even notice your absence.

You watch them through the window and although it may had been a bit creepy you were sure Kaz did worse and you lived in Ketterdam so... And everything you see just confirms your suspicions.

Inej and Kaz look at each, Kaz looks her that way and quickly looks away. They share little innocent touches that would go unnoticed by the regular person but meant your world was slowly breaking. Touch, touch, touch.

Tears well up in your eyes and you push down sobs. Turning sharply to the side you run down the street for a bit before finding a building and a ladder. You scale the building with the help of the ladder not being careful enough so bruises and scrapes would probably show up. But not having enough will to care.

You go and stumble to sit down on the edge and when you do the sobs finally at last leave your throat.

There ugly and uncalled for, because why did you have the right to cry?

No. You growl in your mind.

For once you did have a good reason. Your heart just broke. By the saints even that sounds silly and stupid but you really didn't care.

People always seem to try and describe a broken heart but you absolutely cannot know what it feels like if you have not had your heart broken before.

Tears roll down your face as you continue to sob. Then abruptly... You stop.

Well, your tears silently roll down your cheeks but your sobbing stops. The full feeling finally hits you and the roll coaster you thought you would be experiencing isn't there. It's worse.

Your heart has been ripped out of your chest and it's leaving a gaping hole. Honestly, you don't think you'll ever get it back.

Pathetic, you knew it was, but maybe so was life and this is all just some sick game for someone else's enjoyment.

You barely hear it but there's a soft click of a cane and you didn't even realize it but it was already dark out.

Shit.

You know it's Kaz and you can't face him. You really can't. One because he would obviously know somethings wrong just by taking one look at your tear streaked face. Two because how could you face the man you loved, when you knew he at least liked your sister?

"I would say the stars aren't out today, but they never are in Ketterdam." You start to say, and your voice doesn't wobble but it does have a sense of finality to it.

Kaz comes and stands behind you, and you assumed that he nodded because he didn't say anything. Or maybe nothing was needed to be done or said.

"Inej sometimes said that the stars are the saints watching over us." You pause for a second looking up at the starless sky. Where are you going with this?

"If they are then Ketterdam must be out of their reach and Inej must have brought them back from the sea."

Kaz steps forward so he's even closer to you, and place's a shaky hand on your shoulder.

"I don't think that's true." Kaz whispers into the cold air of Ketterdam.

"If the saints are real and they couldn't watch over Ketterdam. But there's one saint that's always here, that could probably leave if they could but won't. One saint that must be the child of them all, because their so much more then they give themselves credit for. And that the saints sent them to watch over Ketterdam but to never leave." Kaz stops talking and he slowly sits down beside me.

You don't turn to face him you never do when you have talks like these. It's like a silent rule between the two of you, but Kaz Brekker was literally a criminal you both are. So your not nearly as surprised as you should be when he finally decides to break it.

He place's a gloveless hand under your chine and gently turns your head so your facing him. Your eyes finally meet his and everything comes into focus and-

Oh.

You've heard people say that the eyes are the entrance to the soul and maybe you didn't believe them before but it couldn't be more right. In Kaz's eyes you see what he's been trying to tell you for months, but you were so blind in thinking that Inej loved him that you didn't see his attempts. But now, you knew.

He didn't love Inej, he love's you.

He cups your cheek and slowly leans in and lightly brush's his lips on yours. It's barley a kiss but it's enough for now. It's all you could ever ask for.

"Inej love's you." It's a simple statement and Kaz just nods. You hesitate trying to think about your next few words carefully.

"I don't want to hurt her, I never could hurt her intentionally but... What should we do?"

Kaz thinks for a moment before speaking. "Inej will be out at sea and I think one day she'll find someone. She'll be out at sea and we'll break to her when she's ready. And I think whatever we have we can- can have. I know it's selfish but I've never been know for being selfless."

You just intertwine your guy's hands together in agreement while you watch the gloomy but alive streets of Ketterdam.

It's selfish, you both know it but selflessness apparently was not something in both your personality traits.

Words 1905

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung

127 notes · View notes

joyfulhopelox · 3 years

Text

Rosy Carnation

Pairing: painter!Min Yoongi x skater!reader (non-idol! au)

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some talk about social anxiety, Yoongi is a bit harsh in the beginning but rest is just pure fluff

Word count: 6k

rating: pg

Summary: There was nothing in this world that Yoongi hated more than busybodies. Unfortunately for him one particular ditzy skater decides to break the peace by crashing into his life and offering him a rosy carnation

Copyrights @joyfulhopelox for both the work and the banner (thank you @mochi-molala for giving me the artistic approval for this think you didn’t realise how much it helped)

This is part 3 of my Love Blossom series and quite unedited, i tried but some mistakes may have escaped my notice

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! Enjoy <3

There was nothing more peaceful than being able to sit by the river in the early hours of the morning. Every day without fail, Yoongi would take advantage of the sleeping city and set camp by the riverside situated just on the outskirts.

The place was far from being secluded, its location sign-posted by the popular park that housed it. But he knew that during those hours no one bothered to visit, everyone was busy with their office jobs. It wasn’t that he was unemployed, it just so happened that his job allowed him to work from wherever and at whatever time. In fact, the more scenic the location the better for him. As a painter he had the freedom to choose his office, and his most prefered location happened to be by the riverside. The stillness of the morning, the sun just about to peek out from under the city skyline and the sound of the birds conversing amongst each other relaxed him. And if there was one thing that permitted Yoongi to paint without restrictions, was the tranquility of everything around him.

His normal spot, under a beech tree, was rarely used, the pathway that passed by it not being used by the general population. Sometimes he would spot the occasional cyclist passing by on their way to work, sometimes he would hear the scraping of the skateboards doing tricks in the skate park located behind the wall of trees that surrounded him. But no one ever bothered him, or was bothered by him. And it suited him and his needs just fine.

Yoongi disliked it when his flow was interrupted. Luckily for him, it rarely happened. No one threw him more than a glance as no one found the scene to be out of place. Sometimes he would be pulled out of his thoughts by the yap of a dog that got too excited at the prospect of a new human. Other times he would be questioned by the curious child that has never seen a painter at work. Those did not inconvenience him, the innocence and sincerity of the interference was enough to not disturb him.

However, what he miscalculated that day was the early start of the fishing season. One bad trait of being a painter working under your own schedule was losing track of time. And so when that one morning he trudged along with his canvas and his tools to his sacred spot only to find it occupied by fishermen he almost had a panic attack. He forgot all about that, and so unprepared, he did not know what to do or where to relocate. Pausing for a couple of minutes, his eyes scrutinising the men sitting on the riverbank in complete stillness, he contemplated on setting up his stool next to them. But when one of them yelled in glee at having caught a fish, he decided he’d rather not. Fishermen needed to be still because of the nature of their activity, that did not mean they were quiet people overall.

Disappointed and a bit frazzled, Yoongi picked up his canvas from where he set it next to his foot and left the area to scout for a substitute.

After what felt like a good few minutes of walking in circles, he found himself passing by a small public garden right in the middle of the greenery encompassing the riverside. He inspected it quietly, his eyes taking in the flower arrangements and the neatly cut grass. Has that always been there? Probably, it is not like he ventured out of his safe spot. But now, when forced to he realised that maybe there were other places where he could sit and paint in peace. Determinately, he walked into the small gated garden familiarising himself with the layout. There were some benches strewn across the space, all of them framed by vibrant rose bushes, some young oak trees judging by their height but what caught his eye most importantly was the small gazebo tucked away at the back of the garden gated by rows of variously coloured carnations. He decided that it would be the perfect spot, it would have to do for now. Not like he had any other choice. The morning was almost gone, the heat of the midday sun bleeding its way into the breeze. Soon the park will get busier and busier.

Dumping his belongings on the ground he sets off to unpack everything so he could get started. He felt strangely excited about this new spot he had found. Somehow, the novelty of the environment has given him the inspiration that he needed for today’s session. He normally shied away from new experiences, new people and most importantly unexpected circumstances, but this circumstance was more than welcome.

As he sat on his stool, paint brush in hand, the blank canvas staring at him, daring him to fill it with his vision he bit his lip. Suddenly so many ideas zoomed through his mind that he had a hard time deciphering which one sounded the best.

However, none of them made it on the actual canvas.

A skateboard zoomed straight past his feet,out of control, knocking into his carefully placed tools; acrylics and brushes scattered all over the ground in various corners of the gazebo. An exasperated yell and some harsh pants followed said abomination. Yoongi, who was too stunned to even form a sentence or comprehend what was happening around him, stared as you ran towards him at full speed.

“I’m so sorry, sorry sorry sorry” you repeated zooming towards him at breakneck speed. Still in shock Yoongi still couldn’t process what was happening around him. You were going to barrel straight into him but all he could do was blink, his brain still trying to catch up with the situation. One moment you were running towards the skateboard and the next moment found you laying sprawled at his feet.

“Ouch” Yoongi blinked once, twice, three times, and reality finally caught up with him.

He stared at the mess around him. His canvas was lying on the ground a few good feet away from him, its white clean surface now completely smudged with dirt and his acrylics and brushes were all scattered at his feet. The sight of his paints not only disorganised in such a fashion but also crushed and spilled all over the ground caused his stomach to drop. They were not the cheapest and they were also the only ones he had left. It was clear there was nothing to salvage, he had to go once more to the art store and buy more.

“Ohmygod i am so sorry!” The frantic voice was loud enough to make Yoongi wince.

You were not having a good day, and it showed. You started the morning by burning your toast. Then you forgot to grab your keys, which resulted in you having to beg your landlord for the spare in the early hours of the morning. To say they were not pleased was an understatement. You spilled coffee on your white top on your way to the park. And to top it all off you ended up hurtling towards an extremely handsome man.

You decided in the morning that you would try to learn that late kickflip your friends have been trying to teach you, but as a new skater you decided to practice in the garden just off the side of the skate park. One foot placement went wrong and your skate ran from under your feet flying towards the unsuspecting victim.

Luckily it did not hit him, however it scattered all of his belongings all over the dirty ground. It felt as if you were watching all of that happen in slow motion, when in reality it probably only took you a second to react. Trying to help and get a hold of your skate, you rushed to catch it in time before it disappeared into the row of carnations. But you miscalculated entirely the distance between you and the stranger, his foot halting your run.

And that is how you ended up there, on the floor, at his feet, covered in his paints.

You sprung up as fast as you could ignoring the tingling in your leg and started apologising profusely. However, the harshness at which you crashed on the floor combined with the speed at which you got up were a fatal combination. The blood rushed to your feet quicker than you could process and your knees gave out from under you. In an attempt to not crash onto the floor again you grabbed onto the closest stable object you could. Only, it happened to not be an object but a person. So with a clammy hand you latched onto the man in front of you.

Yoongi did not know what to do. You had grabbed onto him with such conviction that his brain malfunctioned. He hated to be touched, especially by strangers. And so when the fight or flight instinct kicked in he shrugged you off violently causing you to crumple on the floor once again.

“Ouch.” Your butt hurt and you wanted to be annoyed at him, but when you looked up to let your feelings known and your eyes locked onto his panicked ones, you paused. He looked ready to run off on you. “I- uh, am sorry” You tried once more to get up, this time as slowly as you could. You knew there would be a bruise later but it was not something you were unfamiliar with.

Yoongi did not respond to you. He couldn’t, his brain was still ready to shut down. He normally ran away from any human interaction, the nature of his job enough to facilitate such behaviour. Being faced with it and in such an unexpected way caused his anxiety to be at an all time high. And so he did what he normally does best; he retreated within himself completely ignoring your apology.

Silently he stepped away from you and crouched down to start picking up his belongings. With an anguished sigh he took in the mess that his acrylics had become. It was going to cost him a lot to be able to replace them but what other choice did he have?

Taking his silence as a sign of anger, you panicked. If there was one thing you could not stand was to see someone angry. Especially when it was directed at you. In an attempt to amend yourself to him you crouched down next to him and started picking up his stuff. “I am really sorry. I didn't mean to. It was just a new trick that i wanted to learn, and i am a newbie at all this and so i was scared to go to the skate park and try them. And I am a clutz and I knew this was going to happen at some point! The day has already started on such a bad note-”

You knew you were rambling, you were nervous. But Yoongi did not care about that. He just wanted you gone. He wanted his peace back, he wanted to get his work done and retreat back to his home and most importantly, he wanted you to get your hands off of his possessions.

Without looking at you, he harshly grabbed for the brushes that you had gathered in your hand. “Leave” he surprised himself at how resolute he managed to sound despite the slight waver in his voice.

“Are you angry? Oh my god you are! I am so sorry again, let me make it up to you! I really did not mean to destroy your work!” you get up once more rushing towards the canvas that lay a few feet away from the two of you. Picking it up you stare at the blank piece of material.

“Oh, are you an artist?” you turn to him, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Completely forgetting the incident from earlier you giddily walk over, the canvas extended towards him.

Yoongi could not believe his eyes, your brash behaviour in front of a complete stranger that has made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you was baffling to him. He contemplated for a second the thought of you being deaf, but then no because you had clearly heard him the first time. His anxiety quickly morphed into annoyance, if you weren’t going to leave he decided he would.

Taking a hold of the canvas you were handing over to him he pulled it out of your hands and stuffed it under his arm. Crouching down again he hurriedly stuffs his brushes and acrylics in his bag. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could before you had the chance to touch any of his belongings again.

“Hey, i-uh. Please don’t be angry. I really am sorry. Look you don’t have to leave, i will go” Yoongi paused, his hand hovering above his palette. Chancing a glance at you, his eyes widened a fraction. You looked completely frazzled. Not even looking at him, your eyes focused on your fretting hands. He could just about see a snippet of your face and the way your bottom lip was trembling slightly made his anger melt a little. Maybe he has been a bit too harsh on you.

“Yes” he offers offhandedly whilst placing his canvas back to where it was before.

At his change in tone your head snaps up and you gape at him. “What?” you breathe out in surprise. His soft but deep voice took you by surprise. It was extremely smooth and you had not expected it to come out of his mouth.

He did not offer you anything else, leaving you gawking at him, watching as he set up his canvas onto the easel. You were silent for a couple of minutes trying to understand what he had meant when it finally hit you.

“Ah! You are an artist! That is amazing, what type of paintings do you do? Is it nature?” you clapped your hands excitedly. “Of course it is nature Y/N, he is in the middle of the gazebo how dumb can you be” you muttered to yourself whilst shaking your head.

Yoongi glanced at you from his periphery. He wasn’t feeling as threatened by your presence as he had before, but that did not mean he was comfortable with you being there. He observed you for a couple of seconds watching as you muttered to yourself for the time being. He took it as a chance to set his palette down and tried to squeeze whatever was left of his acrylics onto it.

You realised a bit too late that you had started daydreaming whilst muttering to yourself and so with rosy cheeks you mutter another apology.

“You apologise too much.” Yoongi did not know where his courage had come from but he couldn’t stop the words spilling from his mouth. “I asked you to leave.” His harsh words caused you to flinch, but your eagerness to see him paint rooted you on the spot.

“Is-uh,” you took a deep breath in trying to calm your beating heart, “is it ok if i stay here and watch you?” You cringed at how voyeuristic that sounded. But you had to admit to yourself, the honey haired guy, with soft plump cheeks and pouty lips has caught your interest and you were not ready to part with him just yet.

Yoongi didn’t respond, he’s made it clear he wanted you gone, but he finally understood that the clumsy human that managed to wreck his set up was a stubborn one. He chose instead to ignore your presence and settle on his painting, giving you unspoken permission to do as you pleased.

Catching onto the meaning of his silence you beamed and sat yourself down.

Trying your hardest to be silent you bit your lip. You knew he wouldn’t appreciate you disturbing him any longer. Soon enough, you slipped into a daydream your eyes focused on the flowers behind the hunched form of the intriguing artist.

Yoongi sighed in satisfaction, his painting was finally finished. He had opted to use greens this time, the nature around him inspiring the concept behind this. However, he could not help but add the dots of red here and there, its fiery tumultuous colour breaking the tranquility of the greens. Just like you had thundered into his life just earlier.

“Woah” broken out of the daydream by the sound of his sigh, your eyes focused on the painting before you. You knew you were easily impressed but this painting was stunning. “That is so cool” you whispered in awe.

Yoongi blushed, he had been complimented a lot on his work, but there was something about the sincerity shining through your statement that frazzled him. He nodded in acknowledgment. He had enough knowledge to be aware that he needed to thank you for the compliment.

“Oh!” you sprung up suddenly the transition making him jump. “I am late!” You quickly picked up your skateboard. “Ah,” stopping mid run you turn back. Rushing to the bushes of carnations you pick one up. With confident stride you head back.

Yoongi watched you, once again his mind completely discombobulated by your abruptness. When you halt in front of him and push the flower into his hands he doesn’t know how to react. Instead he just sits there waiting for your next move, his mind once again preparing him to flee.

“It was nice meeting you….uh?” You realised you did not ask for his name, so as you urge the flower into his grasp you wait patiently for him to offer it to you. When after a minute of silence he doesn’t you try again. “What is your name?”

“So can you like...teach me how to paint?” you eyes brightened at the thought.

“What?” Yoongi sputtered. A week has passed since the first time you decided to literally crash into his life. A week of your mindless chatter. Even so, he had tried his best to ignore you and your childish view of the world. He was ignoring you, but it was not like he couldn’t hear you.

He was not expecting that request, and yet, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him. Your randomness and innocence has been taking his breath away from the moment he saw you. You were all over the place, clumsy and random. He did not want to sit and ponder at that thought, feeling the shiver of anxiety creep back in. Schooling his expression to a neutral one he shook his head and went back to his canvas.

“No” the harsh tone of his voice made you flinch.

Not noticing the effect his words had on you he carried on, “You’d do a very poor job of it, and it hurts to think you’d waste all this material for some doodles.” Not giving you a chance to respond he sighed and put his brush down. “Finally finished.” He sat and observed his work for a couple of moments. He was satisfied, it was not his best work but he liked the outcome. The blue colour scheme gave him a sense of peace.

Realising the silence had gone on too long he turned around to face you. You were unnaturally quiet, your face scrunched up as if in deep thought. He would have thought you’d gone into one of your daydreams if not for the shiny gloss in your eyes. He could not understand why his heart did that flip, or why his mouth formed into a frown mirroring your own. Had he said something wrong? Mulling over his words he decided that maybe his tone was too harsh but you spoke up before he could try to remedy it.

“Ah, i see, you are right” you sniffed trying to mask the tears in your voice. “I am quite clumsy, there is no way i can make something as beautiful as this.” You gesture to his work, the canvas a swirl of blues, it reminded you of the ocean. You did not know why his words stung, it’s not like he didn’t have a point. You were probably incapable of creating something like that. Stick figures were all you could draw, and even those tended to be lopsided.

Yoongi’s heart clenched. “Uhh-” he did not know what to say, it wasn’t as if he could take it back. He did not want to take it back, he wasn’t a liar. But maybe he could have turned you down a bit softer than he has. He may have been awkward in social situations and missed a lot of cues, but the tears gathered in your eyes were hard to miss. Even he could sense the sadness that overpowered the atmosphere.

“It’s ok, i need to, uh go. I’ll see you next time. Here” you quickly drop something next to his brushes and without a second thought you turn away from him and leave as quickly as you’d arrived.

With your back turned towards him, your feet taking you further and further away you could finally release the sob that has been threatening to surface.His words hurt. But you were well aware it was not the words that caused the tear in your heart. It was the unfeeling and harsh way he threw them at you. You contemplated whether or not you should chance a glance behind you, but decided against it. You did not think you could stand the sight of him stepping on the last bit of dignity you had. A rosy carnation.

Yoongi knew he usually missed a lot of social cues. For example when the curator asked him out for a coffee and he told them he stopped drinking caffeine because it caused insomnia. Or when the gallery director had wanted to shake his hand in greeting and he simply just stared at it. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with them, it was just that it took him a lot longer to process these cues than the average human being.

When you’d left him the carnation he simply threw a glance at it but did not give it a second thought as he carried on painting. He almost left it there when he packed up his tools- almost stepping on it. He saw it just in time, the rosy colour attracting his attention. He bent down and picked it up gently; the flower was almost wilted from the heat. Prepared to throw it away he thought of you and stopped. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your distressed eyes and the gleam of your tears weighing heavily on his mind. With a sigh he cradled the flower in his palm, he would put it in between the pages of a book and press it dry.

Yoongi had no clue why he kept visiting the gazebo to work on his paintings. His previous spot so rarely visited that he’s almost forgotten where it was. He tried to convince himself it was because fishing season has not ended and so he would have been bothered by the men setting up around him. He tried not to think of the fact that the thought of not having your voice there, or the noises of the skateboard you practiced with caused him distress. He told himself it was because after a month of having you there with him, you became part of his routine. Like the background noise of a radio in the morning.

He could not pinpoint when your mindless chatter and pleas to ask him to teach you how to paint had become comforting to him. Even at home when he would try to read, he would pick up a book and open it only to come across a rosy carnation drying in between its pages.

You had made it a habit to leave him a flower every time you came to see him. He did not ponder too long as to why, but he’s kept them all. He did not want to ponder too long on that thought either. So he ignored it, but deep down he knew why.

Your eagerness, your clumsiness, your childish view of the world were enough to melt the wall he has built around himself. Somehow, you chipped at that wall with determination just like you did on the first day you met. Ungraceful and uncoordinated.

He knew you’d wormed your way into his soul and just like the flowers he kept pressing for safekeeping, he’s ingrained the memory of you into his brain.

When you’d started to ask more personal questions he found himself answering without a second thought.

“So, uh, have you always wanted to be a painter?” You were sat next to him tinkering with the wheels of your skateboard, from time to time getting distracted at the way his long fingers were clutching the brush. You blushed, thankful he was distracted by his work.

“No,” Yoongi paused to bend down and pick his palette and you thought that was the extent of the information he was willing to provide. “My parents wanted me to be a lawyer.” With a new colour on his brush he squinted focusing on getting the lines just right, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.

The silence that ensued settled heavily around the two of you. “Oh,” your voice did not sound too surprised. Yoongi glanced at you, you were gazing at him with such understanding that he found it hard to tear his gaze away. “Are they happy you chose to do what you love instead?” You carried on, trying out your luck.

Yoongi looked away from you, he couldn’t say what he wanted to say whilst your eyes were digging deep into his soul. “I wouldn’t know.” He shrugged as if to make a point. “I left home to move here and haven’t spoken to them since.”

The words, heavy as lead, echoed in your brain. But they were not unfamiliar. “I am sure they would want to talk to you. My parents died when i was young and i was raised by my grandparents.” Your voice sounded casual, but the slight change of tone made Yoongi raise his eyes to look at you. You were smiling at him, your face not giving away any of the pain you were feeling inside.

Yoongi may have been socially anxious, but he was observant, he couldn’t help it, it was the nature of his job. His eyes picked up on the way your chin trembled and his ears caught the slight waver in your voice. He didn’t know how it happened until he felt the corners of his mouth raising up. And with an uncertain smile in your direction, he managed to erase the sadness that clouded over your face.

“Pick up that brush” his tone softer than you have ever heard it.

“Huh?” You didn’t know where the change in tone had come from, but it managed to take you by surprise.

“Pick up the brush,” he repeated his head nodding in the direction of said tools. “And come here.” He stood up from his stool gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you up. The contact of his cold hands on your warm ones made you shiver, but in the heat of the summer it felt comforting. You savoured the way his gentle hands pulled you into the chair and handed you the brush he had been holding. Softly he guided your hand onto the canvas and your breath stopped.

His hands, the hands you had been observing ever since you met him, were smooth. His long slender fingers imprinting themselves onto the back of your hand. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the way the pale skin of his slender wrist peeked from under the long sleeve he was wearing. The skin on the inside of his wrist almost translucent enough to allow his veins to show.

“Like this” he steered the brush onto the canvas, his voice so close to your ear it made you your heart skip a beat. When the bristles made contact with the material of the canvas leaving the mark of the acrylic on it, you knew. Just like the doodle he’s made, his mark on your heart would be permanent.

Yoongi didn’t know when he started craving your touch. It just happened. He carried on giving you lessons, finding it ironic how adamant he was at the beginning to refuse you. Little by little he started looking forward to his morning ritual of setting up in the garden, your clumsy self stumbling in the gazebo just as he was about to set his easel down. He would not even sit himself first, he would grab your hand allowing himself to revel in the way your smaller rough hand would fit into his larger one and sit you on the stool. Handing you the brushes he would sit next to your skateboard and watch as you tried to create something on the canvas, your brows furrowed in concentration.

How ironic that you would switch places. He would sit for a couple of hours watching your uncertain movements and listen to the small sounds of glee when you’d manage to get the brush to do what you wanted it to. His heart would pound in his chest when your tongue would flit across your lips subconsciously and the small smile gracing his lips would be a permanent fixture on his face. He did not care that he hasn’t painted in a few weeks. He was more than satisfied watching you.

When your painting session would end you’d end up talking for hours under the shade of the gazebo, the smell of flowers wafting all around you.

And you would always leave with lighter hears and the crinkle of a smile indented in the corner of your eyes and him with a rosy carnation cradled to his chest waiting to join the rest of the others.

When one morning you didn’t arrive at your usual time under the gazebo Yoongi noticed. He decided to wait for you for hours, but when the sun bled under the city skyline and the night settled in he decided it was time to go home. With a heavy heart and an empty hand he returned home hoping that the next day you would arrive and tell him about your day.

But one day turned into two, which turned into a week, which then turned into two- and before he knew it a whole month had passed.

In the beginning Yoongi would wait for you patiently, hoping that he would hear your yelps or even your greeting from afar. When that did not happen, he decided he would use that time to continue painting, maybe you’d arrive halfway through and ask him about it. When that didn’t happen either he noticed that instead of a smile on his face he now wore a frown.

After a whole month of not seeing you he became numb to the feeling. He decided that he would not let his mind ponder too much on your absence. But he could not completely block the way his thoughts would return back to you, and he could not help the wistful gaze he would throw the carnations around the gazebo.

As the months of summer wilted into the chill of autumn, the day he decided to stop waiting for you was the day you once again stumbled into him.

Running as fast as your leg permitted you halted a meter away from him, your breath coming out in harsh pants. Yoongi faltered, the grasp he had on his brush slackening, the tool clattering to the ground. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. Instead his eyes took in the way your form trembled with exhaustion, stopping at the wrapped up parcel you had under your arm.

“I am so so so sorry” you rasped, the effort causing you to cough. Looking up at him, your gaze met his dark one. He did not look upset, or even disinterested. He looked concerned, then you realised the state you came to see him in.

Yoongi took notice immediately at the lack of skateboard, this time replaced by a crutch. The way you were favouring one leg over the other concerned him. Had you been in an accident?

“I am so sorry,” you repeated, taking him back to the first moment he’s met you. Your clumsy self apologising incessantly and rambling in nervousness. “I fell one day whilst on the way here, and i broke my leg. I did not mean to stop showing up i promise! I had wanted to come see you as soon as i left the doctor’s office but the injury was worse than i could have suspected and- and” your voice wavered, trembling in exhaustion, still not having caught your breath.

Yoongi got up without a word, his silent form approaching yours. When only a few inches were left between the two of you he places both of his hands on your shoulders halting your apology. Looking up at him your gaze softens, his eyes were glossy but his mouth curled up in a smile.

“You’re ok” he repeated over and over as if to reassure himself. Your eyes now mirroring his own watery ones you nod.

In a flash he hugs you tightly, your crutch clattering to the ground and the parcel under the other arm making a dull thud as it hit the dirty floor. You gasped in surprise, your arms not knowing where to settle themselves. After a couple of seconds your brain catches up and relaxes and you melt into his hug. Despite his hands being always cold, his hug is warm and inviting.

You think back to the first time you met, how his cold words told you to leave him be. The drastic change in his attitude and demeanour make you smile softly. You burrowed your head in his shoulder inhaling his scent. He smelt of oils and acetone with an undertone of something floral, and you gasp. Carnations.

As if remembering something important you pulled yourself away from his touch, the cold autumn air making you shiver at the loss of contact.

Yoongi is confused for a moment, his eyes widening in panic. Has he made the wrong move? Has he read your intentions wrong? His heart clenches at the thought of you not returning the feelings that bloomed in his chest. But when you offer him a reassuring smile and bend down, grabbing onto his arm for support his emotions settle.

“This is for you” your hands were shaking. Handing over the mysterious parcel, you waited patiently for him to take it.

He glances at it uncertainly, but when you push it towards him his hand wraps around it. With as much skill as he could he opened it with one hand. Tearing the paper away he gasped. The corner of a canvas is sticking through the whole.

Looking at you in surprise your nervous eyes urge him to carry on. So he does.

The paper now completely teared open, his eyes settle onto a familiar flower painted onto the canvas. A carnation.

You watched him open your gift. You had tried your hardest during the time you were stuck at home with a cast on to practice and after weeks of painful frustrated tears, you’d finally managed to get it right. You had wanted to convey your feelings in a way that he would understand without feeling the pressure to conform to societal norms. To show him how much his effort to accommodate you and include you in his secluded life meant to you.

“Did you know,” you were whispering, “that rosy carnations mean admiration?”

Yoongi finally got it, realisation dawning over his features. He looked up at you, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding his chest. You were still smiling at him a tear now running down your cheek. “I wanted to convey my admiration for you in a way that would be permanent.” The hand on his arm tightened as if you make a point. “So i tried my best to do that.”

Yoongi smiled, not the uncertain smile you were used to, a full smile, the gums of his teeth showing, his features softening.

“A painting is not eternal, but with the artist the painting it over and over again it can be.” His free hand cups your cheek gently. “So stay with me.”

Main Masterlist

#yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #suga fic #yoongi fic #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #s: love blossom #angst #fluff #matsterlist #bts min yoongi #bts suga

118 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Nineteen-Part Three)

Summary: (Y/N), Jack and their friends finally face off against Leviathan and the Secret Empire.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Ya girl wrote this while dealing with sleep deprivation, cramps and the after effects of the vaccine, so I hope it’s good ‘cause at this point I can’t even tell lol Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen (Part III) Leviathan’s Weapons Facility, Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic (Previous Chapter)

While the two of them were ushered down the staircase that led into the crate-filled warehouse by Michael and Dottie, (Y/N)’s mind raced as she struggled to think of a way out of their current conundrum. I’ve been in plenty of tough scrapes before but even I’ll admit that this one’s the toughest one yet, she thought to herself, her eyes rapidly scanning the large room; there were large, frost-covered windows towards the ceiling, several boarded-up skylights and the two metal doors she spotted were both guarded by Leviathan soldiers. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, (Y/N) had counted a total of twenty armed enemy operatives – seventeen Leviathan guards, Attwell, Underwood and Michael Carter – and from the brief glimpse she’d gotten of their friends hidden behind a stack of crates, it looked as though both Pinkerton and Sawyer were badly injured and the others were trying to bandage their blood-soaked wounds. So, we’re out-gunned and out-numbered, she concluded with a sinking feeling as she bit her lip in worry.

“So, Chief Thompson did survive his daring escape!” Attwell grinned, walking out into the empty space amidst the crates and standing before the two of them. “Truth be told, I was hoping that we’d meet again; I detest leaving loose ends, and killing the SSR’s golden boy once and for all would’ve been a genuine pleasure.”

Beside (Y/N), Jack’s shoulders tensed but he tilted his head to the side in mock contemplation. “What, you couldn’t do it without your Leviathan goons backing you up? What a real tough guy.”

Attwell’s fist quickly connected with Jack’s stomach and when he doubled over in pain, the man struck him across the face and sent him sprawling to the ground. “Stop it!” (Y/N) started towards her partner but the sudden feeling of a pistol barrel against the back of her neck stopped her cold; tearing her eyes away from Jack, she met Attwell’s gaze and struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke, “He’s not the one who’s screwing up your deal with Leviathan, I am.”

“Of course, of course, the infamous codebreaker.” Attwell stepped closer but she held her ground, raising her chin in defiance and refusing to look away despite how uncomfortable his stare made her feel. After a tension-filled moment, his face broke out into a stomach-churning smirk. “It’s a shame that such promising talent’s being squandered by the SSR, by those who dismiss and condescend you at every turn. I was very much like you before joining Hydra; I was overshadowed at Cambridge by my perfect older brother and his two brilliant flatmates; while William, Michael and Adam flourished in their respective fields of study, I floundered and was subsequently expelled but as luck would have it, I was approached by Hydra and offered a chance to unlock my true potential; and here I stand before you, Agent (Y/L/N), to offer you that very-same chance. With the new Leviathan, your immeasurable skills would not only be recognized but they’d also be celebrated. You and Michael could work side-by-side in our efforts to break through as the world’s leading superpower and once we achieve our goal of fully weaponizing Zodiac, Agent (Y/L/N), you’ll have everything you’ve ever truly desired.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) noticed Jack’s hand resting on his waist and while Attwell talked, her partner’s index finger had tapped away. It only took her seconds to realize he was sending out a message in Morse Code on the walkie-talkie still clipped onto his belt and once she did, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy. You fidget too much.”

If Jack can think up an off-the-cuff plan to get us out of this mess then I can buy us all a little time by being a good spy, she thought with resolve just as Attwell finished up his speech. Taking a page out of her partner’s book, (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow at the man as the corner of her mouth curled into a humorless smile. “There was a time when I would’ve given just about anything for people to recognize me and my skills, to appreciate just how hard I’ve worked to get where I am today. But then I grew up and realized that the only person whose appreciation I needed was my own. Mr. Attwell, I don’t need to be celebrated or appreciated by anyone, but especially not by a pathetic imitation of the Red Skull.”

The man’s expression instantly grew cold at the comparison. “Then it would seem that you’re of no use to us.” His gaze shifted to look at whoever was holding her at gunpoint and he nodded. “Shoot her, Michael.”

“Stop!” All of them looked over just as Peggy jumped out from behind their makeshift barricade with her rifle pointed directly at Attwell. “I’ll give you the key.”

“Peggy, no!” The barrel of the pistol pressed harder into (Y/N)’s neck and she winced in pain. However, her horror was quickly replaced with dawning comprehension when Peggy flashed her a pointed look before briefly glancing in Jack’s direction. She knows about whatever Jack’s planning, she silently realized, playing along with her old friend’s ruse by rearranging her features into a look of righteous indignation.

Moving to stand beside Attwell, Dottie raised the hand that wasn’t holding her rifle and gave the younger woman a small wave. “Hiya, Peggy. You know, you really should’ve listened to me back in New York; I told you there were currencies in the world stronger than money. I practically spelled all of this out for you! But the great Peggy Carter couldn’t figure it all out on her own, so she needed the help of…” Dottie turned to (Y/N) with a frown. “What’re those revolting nicknames you call each-? Oh, never mind, I don’t want to know.” Turning back to Peggy, the spy shrugged. “Well, I suppose not everyone’s perfect, are they?”

“No, they’re certainly not.” Attwell agreed, gesturing with his head for Peggy to lower her weapon and holding out his hand once she’d set it on the ground. “No tricks, Agent Carter. The key, and you and your friends are free to go; it appears that at least one of them is in need of medical attention, so I’d be quick about it if I were you.” When Peggy’s eyes flicked over to where Michael was standing behind (Y/N), Attwell chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I don’t think dear old Michael’s going anywhere but by all means, Agent, go ahead and ask him if you don’t believe me.”

For the first time since they were ushered into the warehouse, Peggy looked directly at her older brother. Her hardened expression slipped and for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) recognized the vulnerable young woman she’d known all those years ago at Bletchley Park who mourned her beloved brother’s death. While her lower lip trembled, Peggy finally addressed Michael. “Not too long ago, I had a dream about you and you told me that you’d be right alongside me if you could. I didn’t believe it was possible, even when (Y/N) and Jack told me it was, but now we have a second chance at being a family again. Michael, you can finally come home.” She blinked away her tears and gave him the ghost of an encouraging smile. “Please, Michael, come home with me.”

(Y/N) could feel the pressure on her neck ease up but just as she was beginning to think that Peggy had succeeded in getting through to him, Michael coolly replied, “This is my family, Agent, the only family I have in this world.”

Peggy’s face crumpled as Attwell laughed in amusement. “I told you so! Now, the key for your friends.”

God, I hope that whatever Jack’s planning happens sooner rather than later, (Y/N) silently prayed, sucking in a breath while the younger woman approached Attwell. Once Peggy reached into her pocket and withdrew the familiar Arena Club pin, the man looked over at Dottie and gave her a nod; the spy slung the strap of her rifle over her shoulder and made her way over to one of the many wooden crates near them, kicking the lid off of it and lifting a small metal box out of the loose excelsior. The box looked innocent enough but as Dottie walked it over to Attwell, (Y/N)’s blood ran cold and she knew that the moment Peggy handed over that key, Leviathan would possess one of the world’s deadliest weapons and they’ll have lost.

“Get up, Chief Thompson,” Michael barked and while Jack got to his feet, (Y/N) was roughly pushed towards him. “And you, stand over there with him.”

(Y/N) did as he said, standing beside Jack and keeping her eyes on the scene unfolding before them as she murmured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Peachy-keen.” She watched Dottie hand the metal box over to Attwell, her anxiety steadily building within her while he examined the box’s intricate lock. “Are you going to fill me in on the plan or what?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth curled upwards and he quietly replied, “Patience is a virtue, Specs, just be ready for it.”

“Be ready for wha-?”

Just then as Peggy’s hand stretched out to give Attwell the Arena Club pin, the warehouse wall opposite them exploded. Rubble and splintered pieces of crates flew through the air but before (Y/N) could fully react, gunfire broke out all around them. Amidst the chaos, Jack latched onto (Y/N)’s hand and ran, yanking her behind the nearest tower of crates as bullets whizzed past their heads; both of them crouched on the ground and peeked around the wooden crates, and her eyes widened in amazement at what she saw. The explosion that had knocked down part of the warehouse wall hadn’t been an explosion at all but rather one of the Howlies’ trucks and as (Y/N) watched, Daniel and Henry used the truck’s doors as barriers while they exchanged fire with the Leviathan guards. Moments later, she spotted Peggy dart out from one of the aisles to join her boyfriend behind the open truck door.

“Wa-Hoo!”

Dugan’s deafening war cry from across the warehouse was punctuated by a fresh barrage of gunfire, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but revel at the familiarity of it all; her eyes were suddenly drawn to two men sprinting down the aisle towards her and Jack, and it took her a tense moment to recognize them through all the chaos.

“There you guys are!” Howard exclaimed before ducking down beside them, followed closely by an anxious-looking Edwin Jarvis. Reaching into the satchel that was slung over his shoulders, the inventor withdrew two handguns and offered the weapons to them. “You know, you two’ve got a real habit of gettin’ into trouble…”

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Says the man who was mind-controlled into almost gassing all of New York last year.” Springing up, he fired off several shots before ducking back down. “How’re we looking, Jarvis?”

“Well, Chief Sousa’s dramatic entrance provided enough of a distraction for Mr. Fieldman to escort Mr. Pinkerton and Mr. Sawyer out the front; their wounds aren’t life-threatening, but Mr. Fieldman promised he’d help treat them once they reach the clearing.” The butler set another satchel on the ground in front of them. “And we’ve brought more guns and ammunition, as per your request.”

“You know, Thompson, you said in your message that you needed a big diversion, but that whole entrance was my idea; I actually took it from one of my studio’s newest scripts, where a gangster steals-”

“Of course, Mr. Stark, your genius knows no bounds.” Edwin hurriedly interrupted the inventor’s rambling, glancing over at (Y/N) with his brow furrowed in worry. “And have you broken Mr. Carter out of his brainwashing? Where is he?”

Looking around the edge of the crate, (Y/N)’s heart dropped when noticed that several important people were missing from the gunfight. “Where the hell did they go, Jack?”

Jack craned his neck to see what she was looking at and swore loudly. “Shit, I-wait, they’re on the stairs!” By the time (Y/N) spotted them, Attwell, Dottie and Michael had reached the top of the stairs and had disappeared around the corner. “Jarvis, stay here with Stark and cover us, then go help the others.” Edwin nodded and her partner turned towards her, his blue eyes scanning her face for any signs of trepidation as he asked, “Are you ready, Specs?”

“As I’ll ever be,” (Y/N) pulled an extra ammunition magazine out of the satchel and tucked it into her pocket before giving Jack a determined nod. “Let’s finish this once and for all, Flyboy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Compared to the chaotic warehouse they’d come from, the rest of the facility was eerily silent and it wasn’t at-all difficult to follow the footsteps of the fleeing trio through the deserted hallways.

“You know that this is probably a trap, right?”

“Naturally.”

“Good. Just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

Before (Y/N) could get another word in, a figure she soon recognized as Dottie dropped down from above them and began attacking; the spy kicked the guns out of their hands, ramming her knee into (Y/N)’s stomach and knocking the wind out of her before spinning and using her leg to slam Jack into the wall beside them. (Y/N) took advantage of Dottie’s momentary distraction and aimed a side-kick at her thigh, but the spy merely turned her sharp fall into a somersault; she stood and threw a punch that (Y/N) was quick to duck, and then she grabbed the spy’s extended arm with the intent of wrenching it behind her back. Dottie predicted the move, yanking her arm free only to wrap her hand around her throat and roughly shove her back against the wall.

The back of (Y/N)’s head erupted into a sharp pain while Dottie flashed her a condescending smile. “I already told you, you’re too easy! It’s almost pathetic to see you try so hard to be as good as Peggy.”

“Don’t need to be as good as Peggy,” (Y/N) choked out as the fingers around her throat tightened. “Just…just good enough to keep you distracted.”

Dottie frowned in confusion and that’s when Jack slammed the butt of his gun against the back of her head. The spy tumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap and (Y/N) doubled over, her hands firmly clutching her knees as she coughed and gasped for air. “(Y/N), you okay?” She nodded and allowed Jack to take hold of her shoulders, his soothing encouragements helping her finally regain her breath; once he was sure that she was fine, her partner handed over her dropped gun and rested his hand against the small of her back to urge her forward. “C’mon, let’s go…”

They left the motionless spy behind and continued down the hallway, turning the corner and finding themselves at the entrance of a dimly-lit boiler room. Beside (Y/N), Jack shuddered and she recalled the story he’d told her of the mission he and Peggy had conducted to investigate one of Leviathan’s training facilities; she nudged him with her elbow and gave him a brief smile, wishing that she could offer him more comfort but not wanting to distract them both from their mission. Jack nodded as if to say he was fine, but his shoulders remained tense while he silently gestured for her to go left into the room while he went right.

(Y/N) crept behind the various boilers and pipes, careful not to slip on the slick ground as she did. If I end up surviving all this, I think I’m going to sleep for a week straight, she thought to herself, her heart rate steadily increasing with each step she took. While she edged herself around another heavy piece of industrial furnacing, she found herself trying to think of how to break Michael out of his mind-control long enough to save him; Jack insisted that cognitive re-calibration was the only way but after being present for Peggy and Michael’s reunion, she wondered if reminding him of his past or even recent actions would also do the trick. But a sharp skid noise right behind her made her forget her train of thought and turn, dodging the knife just in time.

“You really should’ve taken my offer, Agent (Y/L/N),” Attwell spat out, slashing at her with the knife again and forcing her to stumble back into the center aisle of the boiler room; the blade sliced against her forearm and she stifled her cry of pain, dropping her gun and leaping out of the way as he aimed for her again. “Soon, you and your foolish friends will be dead and Leviathan will have more power than you could possibly imagine!”

“Don’t you ever get tired of hearing your own damn voice?” (Y/N) retorted, her hand shooting out and twisting the red-colored knob beside them; a pipe next to Attwell spewed out pressurized steam and he let out a shriek of pain as the steam enveloped the right side of his face. Not wanting to stick around, she turned and sprinted further into the vast room, a part of her hoping that she’d bought herself enough time to save Michael. Skidding around a corner, she was immediately met with the sight of Jack and Michael engaged in a vicious fight on the floor; her partner was trying to wrestle something out of the other man’s closed fist, but he was so preoccupied with his task that he didn’t see Michael’s other hand brush the handle of a nearby gun. (Y/N) kicked the gun away from him, pinning his shoulder to the ground with her knee and spoke the first thing that came to mind. “Visions, light, cheered, night, dream!”

As she finished reciting the five words he’d used to encode his final message to Peggy, something shifted in Michael’s dark eyes and his clenched fist relaxed, allowing Jack to snatch the Arena Club pin from him. Before any of them could say or do anything more, a fiery ache erupted along her shoulder blade and she cried out in pain as she pitched forward. “(Y/N)!” Jack looped his arms underneath hers and dragged her over to half-lean against a pipe; her vision was partially clouded by the pain, but she could still make out the bloody knife he’d just pulled out of her upper back and tossed onto the ground beside them. “No, no, don’t look at that, just keep your eyes on me!” He pressed his trembling hand tight against the wound and when she nearly whimpered, he held the side of her face with the other and frantically nodded, his blue eyes steadily filling with panic that he struggled to control. “I-I know it hurts, baby, but I have to keep pressure on it; it’s not very deep, but I can’t have you fainting right now so keep your eyes on me, c’mon-”

“How touching,” Both of them looked up to see Attwell and Michael standing before them, the former with a self-satisfied smirk on his half-seared face and the latter staring stonily down at them. “Let’s make a new deal, Chief Thompson: Give me the key, and I won’t let Agent (Y/L/N) slowly bleed out on the floor of this boiler room.”

“Bastard.” Jack spat back, but his hand left (Y/N)’s face long enough to retrieve the Arena Club pin from his pocket and throw it into Attwell’s waiting hand. “You better start lookin’ over your shoulder now, Attwell, ‘cause I won’t rest until I kill you myself.”

Attwell shrugged and ran his fingers over the pin, twisting it sharply to convert it into a key. “Such fiery attitude in the face of doom was precisely why I was looking forward to killing you. But then I realized, forcing a man like you to live with your mistakes is a far worse punishment than death; and to make this victory sweeter, I plan on unlocking Zodiac in front of you both, so you can see just how spectacularly you failed yourselves, your agency and your country.” He turned to Michael with his brow raised in expectation. “Are you ready to make history, old chap?”

Michael nodded. “Of course…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the metal box containing Zodiac; (Y/N) tried getting up, unwilling to sit back and let Leviathan win, but Jack’s strong arms held her in place against him. When she met his gaze, he gave her a barely-discernible head shake and with her jaw clenched tight, she watched Attwell push the key into the lock and turn it clockwise; the lid popped open and the man breathed a sigh of relief, reaching into the slightly-smoking box and holding an electric-blue colored vial with strange etchings carved into the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? So much potential for war and destruction, and it fits within the palm of my hand.” Attwell looked up at Michael and continued, “My brother never appreciated such things, you know. He never truly appreciated you, either; once you were found out to be a deep-cover spy for the SOE, I saw an opportunity to mold you into the person you were always meant to be. Do you remember the first thing I told you after you came out of Hydra’s operating room?”

Michael’s hardened expression faltered, almost as if he was struggling to control his actions, and in an instant, he drew his gun and shot Attwell directly in the chest. There were tears in his eyes as he finally replied, “‘Michael, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’”

The box and the vial slipped out of the dying man’s hands and as he began to sway dangerously on his feet, (Y/N) lunged forward and caught both in her hands before they could hit the ground. While Attwell’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground in a heap, she and Jack hurriedly placed the deadly Zodiac back into the box and slammed the lid closed; she let out a shaky breath, unable to grasp everything that had just happened. Michael dropped to his knees, tossing his gun to the side and rubbing his head with one hand; still mindful of her now-oozing wound, Jack held her a little closer as they both warily watched the unsteady man turn away from Attwell’s body to look at them. “I-It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent (Y/L/N). I’m Michael Carter, SOE.”

A smile slowly stretched across (Y/N)’s face and a sense of relief was beginning to wash over her as a familiar voice called throughout the boiler room. “(Y/N)? Jack?”

“We’re back here, (Y/N) needs some medical attention but we’re okay!” Jack called back, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and flashing her a lopsided grin. “You’re gonna be fine, Specs, you hear me?” With a relieved chuckle, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her sweat-covered brow before resting his cheek on the top of her head. “We’re all gonna be fine.”

“Hey!” The first person who rounded the corner was Daniel, whose gun was already at the ready when he pointed it at Michael. “Hey, get the hell away from them!”

Jack held out a placating hand to the chief. “Easy, Danny Boy, he’s good right now; he’s the one who killed Attwell.”

Lowering his gun, Daniel limped over to where they sat against the pipe and knelt down as best he could to examine her knife wound. “Looks like the knife missed everything important, thank goodness. What the hell happened down here?”

Jack detailed everything they’d dealt with after hurrying out of the warehouse as their friends joined them; Edwin began treating her various wounds with Henry’s assistance, Howard carefully stowed the box containing Zodiac and its key into a satchel and Dugan worked on locating a weak point in the wall to blow a quick exit for them. There was a flurry of voices and activity surrounding (Y/N), but all her attention was on Peggy and Michael; they were talking to each other in low tones, Michael looking heartbreakingly unsure and Peggy trying her hardest not to cry, until they both surged forward and hugged one another. For the second time that day, (Y/N) was reminded of Freddie but while she watched the Carter siblings finally reunite, she didn’t feel sadness or envy, but rather pride. She was proud of herself, for having helped stop Leviathan’s plans and for having made-do on her promise to reunite her oldest and dearest friend with her beloved brother. If anyone deserves a second chance at happiness it’s those two, she thought to herself, taking a deep breath and resting her head against Jack’s strong shoulder.

They did it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Only one more chapter left!! Like I said, idk how I feel about this chapter as a whole so I’m sorry if there’s mistakes/it’s bad, but next week’s is gonna be great! Thank you guys so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and it’s linked down below!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Twenty

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #peggy carter #daniel sousa #howard stark #edwin jarvis #dum dum dugan #pinky pinkerton #happy sam sawyer #the howling commandos #michael carter #dottie underwood #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

108 notes · View notes

catt-nuevenor · 3 years

Note

Which of the Ros are the most possessive. And how would they react if someone is hitting on the Mc.

Alrighty then, lets do a little scene setting shall we?

The MC and RO are in an established relationship by this point, and the MC is not into the attention they are receiving from a visiting merchant.

Hope you all enjoy!

I HIGHLY recommend you head over to the reacts page to read this. There you can enter your own names and pronouns for the characters.

Reacts Page

P looked through the produce, picking out the best, setting aside the bruised or battered fruits as they went. Osmund gave them an indulgent shake of the head, but didn't comment on the particulars of their weekly ritual. It saved him and his wife from having to do it after all.

"Busy day." He commented, stretching out his arms as he peered round the humming market, smiling despite himself when he caught Aveza's eye. She waved to him, and he flicked a hand to wave back only to pause mid motion, the concerned frown on his wife's brow causing him to sit up.

Following Aveza's gesturing, Osmund traced over to a tightly pitched stall near Erda's place. With it's bright blue awning and fancy footed table, an array of impractical knick-knacks and tat spilling out at what he'd been reliably informed were exorbitant prices, the entire set up screamed 'city folk'.

And even if it hadn't, the merchant behind it all declared their origins loud and uncomfortably proud.

"Hey, Starling." Osmund said quietly, eyes locked on the distant stall, the same crease of concern now dipping between his own brows.

P hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't look up from their self imposed task.

"You might wanna go help MC out."

That made them move sure enough. P snapped to attention, quickly looking back over the market, locating their partner in a heartbeat, setting off in their direction within the space of the next.

Aveza lingered a while near the stall, keeping an eye on proceedings as P materialised at MC's side, jaw set, eyes hard, entirely focused on the merchant.

"And who is this?" The young person asked, a sparkling smile falling somewhat flat in the face of the new arrival.

Aveza smirked to herself as she noticed P's hand come to rest comfortingly in the small of MC's back, the way the tiny gesture of comfort made the restrictive bunching of their shoulders ease.

"This is P, my partner." MC said.

"Oh!" The merchant cooed, looking the competition up and down a few times with an appraising eye. "I'm not the only one to admire the local fair then am I?"

P bristled, and Aveza winced, sparing a glance to the town hall, wondering whether now would be a good time to fetch Vyla, or maybe even old Erda, before anything got... messy.

"I suggest," The young person said, a soft rumble trembling beneath every word, "that you quit admiring and start learning to listen to your customers."

Whether by the misfortune of an inherent stupidity, or a suicidal self confidence, the merchant didn't take the hint. "Oh but I have been." The silly young person sighed, gazing at MC with a suggestive smile. "I could listen to them all-"

"Hopeless." P pronounced.

The merchant blinked. Once, twice, stuck somewhere between their lamed flirtation, and P's cutting assessment.

They shook their head, turned away from the stall, and nodded once to MC. "Ready to head home darling?"

Aveza chuckled, heading back to her husband. When P made it back to their stall, MC happily at their side, they both gave them a pat on the back.

"Nicely handled." Osmund grinned, returning the basket they'd forgotten in their haste to rescue MC.

P thanked him, the lightest of blushes dusting their freckled cheeks.

"I honestly thought they was going to hit them for a second there." Aveza said, passing MC a small cloth bag from beneath their stall. "Some pear comfits for your child." She explained, waving a dismissing hand when they reached for their coin pouch. "We've got plenty to spare."

"P's not really the hitting type." MC explained once they'd stashed the little bag of sweets away. "Well, Huite might be a slight exception..."

P laughed. "Don't tempt me." They said, wrapping an arm around MC's waist, kissing their cheek fondly.

"Oh for the love of-" Aveza groaned while her husband sniggered to himself, peering round the lovebirds to where the rejected merchant openly glowered at them. "Go on the pair of you! Before you get us embroiled in a guild war with the newbie."

Osmund and Aveza shooed them off with a cheery wave, promising to stop by the lodging house later, before they headed back to the farm.

"Pass me that second spoke would you?" Osmund said, holding his hand out and flexing his fingers expectantly as he kept his eye on the mechanism. Within a few seconds it was passed over, and with a careful twist and tug, Osmund slotted it into place.

"How'd you know which one was the second one?" L asked, watching the exercise with a all consuming fascination. "There's no numbers or anything."

MC smiled brightly at their partner, and explained Osmund's somewhat eccentric organisation system. "It's practice mostly." They said eventually, once the young person's confusion had descended into a baffled squint. "You get used to it."

"Honestly," Osmund grumbled with a smirk. "You both sound like Aveza. There is a system, and it works well enough."

Locating the next socket, and it's paired counterpart on the hub, Osmund scraped the few flakes of wood shavings out, puffing away at any remaining sawdust. Edony had done a good job, as always, but with the season being what it was, hadn't had the time to clean the new pieces out.

"Where is she?" L asked, swinging their heels against the upturned barrel they sat upon, casting about the market place for sign of the missing woman.

"Third one MC." Osmund said, holding out his hand once more till the spindle was placed upon his palm. "She's with the stall." He explained to the fisherperson. "Not that there'll be much more business today. Most folks do all their essentials in the morning."

A sharp, poorly hidden snort made him glance up at the red faced youngster.

MC smirked, lifting an amused brow. "Really L?"

"Oh come on! 'Do their essentials'?" Tone defensive L tightly crossed their arms over their chest. "It sounds like something Huite would wheeze about in the pub! Right?"

Osmund looked over to MC. "Ready with the fourth spoke?"

"Hey-!"

"Right here."

L shot their lover a withering glare. "Traitor." They huffed, pouting proudly and turning to glare out over the square.

The work continued for a time uninterrupted, MC and Osmund quickly moving through the twelve separate spokes. Edony would fix on the iron tyre later, but they'd at least got the mundane bit of the task done for her.

"Thanks MC." Osmund said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a smudged handkerchief. "I think Aveza has some comfits for you little one tucked away at the stall."

Typically, at this juncture, L would have piped up, driven with an all consuming passion to procure their own bag of treats. But they didn't.

They both looked at them, a little taken aback. The feeling grew when they saw the scowl. It wasn't directed at either of them, but out towards one of the distant stalls.

"Everything alright L?" MC asked, shifting to stand beside them, attempting to follow the line of their angry focus.

Osmund wheeled himself over to them, and saw almost immediately the cause of the young person's ire. Tucked neatly between the front of Erda's shop and the building opposite sat a stall that simply screamed guild money. He'd spotted it as he'd driven their oxen in this morning, and the person behind it. Now it seemed the same merchant had spotted them, or at least one of them.

"Creep's been watching you for a while now." L muttered to their partner. "Been smirking over here like you're a cut in the butcher's window."

MC watched, and sure enough, as soon as the latest browsing customer had moved away from the garish wares, the merchant's eyes sought them out, a filthy smile soon following.

"You can't stop them looking L." They reasoned, despite the crawl of disgust that shuddered down their spine.

L huffed. "Want to bet?"

Osmund shook his head firmly. "Don't even go there kid. They wants to be a creep, then that's their own business. Unless they actually makes the stupid decision to actually do some, the only thing you'd be doing is making a headache for Vyla."

"He's right." Aveza said, emerging from between the dwindling shoppers, patting L's shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "Much as I don't want to swell his ego."

Her husband promptly stuck his tongue out, before retracting it and kissing his wife's hand.

"You two do realise you're adorable, right?" MC chuckled, happy for the distraction from the distant person's leering.

That seemed to give L an idea. Moving quickly, making sure the creepy twonk was looking, they reached up, tugged twice on MC's shoulder. Once they'd leant down to their level, L sound and roundly kiss their cheek.

Aveza chuckled as MC blushed. "Smooth."

The morning was bright, warm, and beautiful, and the fact that Erda and A spent the entirety of it tuck away in their little shop baffled Aveza. She was grateful, make no mistake. Thanks to their self imposed hibernation she was able to pick up the poultices she needed for Osmund's legs, the polished glass bottle gleaming on the counter, ready and waiting for her to collect. The convenience didn't stop her twinge of sympathy, watching as A gazed out the shop window.

At first Aveza thought they was looking longingly at the sunlight, but when she saw the true target of A's affection, she could help but chuckle.

"Still got it that bad, huh?" She asked, fishing around her coin pouch for the correct change, placing each bit down upon the counter with a light tap.

"They does indeed."

They both turned to the rear of the shop, into the gloom of the numerous storage shelves and cupboards, where old mother Erda sifted through her collection of scales.

"Erda!" A admonished, a cherry red blush staining their cheeks.

The old woman grinned sharply, peering round the corner of the furniture at her young, flustered apprentice, looking over the rims of her wiring silver spectacles. "Am I wrong?" She asked.

A hesitated, seemingly on the very edge of denying it, before falling back. With a resigned sigh, and a tiny shake of their head, they let their teacher take the victory.

"Oh how you must suffer Erda." Aveza lamented loudly, offering A a sympathetic smile. "All these young people in love, it must be simply awful."

Erda's cackle rang through the shop and A blush got all the deep, reaching all the way to the tips of the poor dear's ears, though beneath all their embarrassment Aveza couldn't help but notice a soft little smile.

In a singular moment all the humour drained from the young person's features, eyes locked on something beyond the windows.

Aveza turned sharply, unnerved by the sudden shift, her eyes scanning the busy market place for the source of A's distress. She didn't have to look far.

Just beyond the shop front, tucked with precision onto the narrow patch of free space, sat the stall of an unfamiliar merchant. The person's entire demeanour scream old city money, from the pristine blue of the stalls awning, to the fancy footing of the polished table they lay their wares upon.

Osmund had spied them on the way into town that morning, mumbled something about 'guild money', before urging their oxen over to the opposite side of the square.

The person in question was wholly absorbed in the process of trying to press their attentions on a decidedly uncomfortable MC, trapped between the overladen stall and the overeager merchant.

Aveza glanced back to A warily. "Now, don't do anything-"

But they was already round the counter, across the room, and through the door before she could finish her sentence.

"-rash." Aveza sighed, placing the remaining coins down on the counter and tucking the waiting salve into her bag, before following the young person out.

"Try to keep everyone in one piece." Erda called after her. "It's never easy to get blood out of the brickwork."

She sincerely hoped Erda was joking, but knowing the woman as well as she did...

"Leave them alone." A was stood between MC and the merchant, voice seemingly calm, though Aveza could see the tension in their posture. "They said no."

Aveza heard the gentle creak of familiar wheels, and allowed herself a little sigh of relief as Osmund rolled up beside her.

"Trouble?" He asked her softly, keeping his voice low so they might remain observers, for now.

"Maybe." She replied in kind. "Depends on what the idiot does next."

Said idiot seemed utterly oblivious to the situation, and instead of doing the sensible thing and backing off, or every the moral thing and apologising, the cocksure young person doubled down.

"Really now? Are you sure?" There was a sourness to their teasing tone, a threat given against the person who had interrupted their sport. "Maybe the lovely soul needs a little more persuasion."

"I really don't." MC said firmly. "I'm not interested."

"There." A pointedly glared at the merchant. "Now, as I said, leave them alone."

Soundly rejected, and Aveza theorised more than a little humiliated, the embittered person rounded on A. "Just who are you anyway? Why don't you mind your own business?"

Osmund groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. "Really?" He hissed. "Read the room for the sake of all that is good..."

His wife patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths dear, you'll live longer."

"MC is my business. Just as much as I am their business." A stated, their usual good humour chipped away to jagged flint. "I'm their partner."

The idiot was going to start again, Aveza could see it coming a mile off. Thing is, something you should never do is rile up a cunningperson. Young as A was, apprentice as they may be, there was still more than enough knowledge and skill in them to lay this fool flat.

"an, MC?" She called, not having to change much to lay on a look of concern as the three of them turned to look at her and Osmund. "Could you help us get a hold of one of the Aldermen? Vyla said if we ever needed anything we should go through one of you?"

It worked, just like Aveza knew it would. Even a fool like this would know, in small town politics the Aldermen were the be all and end all. Manage to on their bad sides and you could kiss your business goodbye in a heartbeat. The merchant paled, quickly looking between A and MC, clearly working out the hinted importance of them both to the settlement, their connection to the power here, the risk involved in continuing to harass either one of them.

They both caught on to the ruse, A leading their partner back towards the shop and their friends, though Aveza and Osmund both noticed the stiffness in their stature remained.

Sorry. Too many spoilers to include this section...

#myrkmire #reacts #interactive fiction #hosted games #choice of games

129 notes · View notes

ac-liveblogs · 3 years

Text

Lantern Rite 2022: The Finale

as a xiao lover, my day is ruined and my disappointment is immeasurable.

the rest of it, though...

The Story

To be honest, while I wasn’t a huge fan of running around doing errands for NPCs last year, it definitely built a much better sense of community than whatever it was we got this year. I would’ve gladly done more errands if they were excuses to hang out with playable characters – I feel that would’ve been a much better way to develop relationships or see characters interact than what we actually got.

Which was… a 3-part story about us helping Keqing find some missing fireworks – which was a problem that, aside from one fight, she solved herself completely off-screen – and then talking to a bunch of Keqing’s friends (and also Cloud Retainer?) to condescend to her with a make-believe story about a good and healthy work-life balance… bc Zhongli thought that was the best way to help her?

Only for it to turn out that Keqing was already aware of this issue and states she’s trying to improve, and she’s already way better than she was. Well, what was the point then!

On the mystery of the missing fireworks – like the last Dragonspine event, don’t write a mystery if you aren’t willing to write a mystery. If you’re doing off-screen investigation phases, ask why. Is it because you think it’s too hard to write – in which case, don’t write a mystery – or is it because you think the investigation phase is boring? In which case, you’ve identified your main issue right there – if you have a boring story, go and rethink things so you can make one that’s more interesting!

Compliments where they’re due, though - unlike Moonchase, there was a bit more of an effort to integrate the playable characters’ personalities into their dialogue this time. Zhongli expresses some mild annoyance with Hu Tao, who is... very mildly eccentric, Beidou and Ningguang’s rapport actually aligns with their profiles a bit better and Xingqiu exploits Chongyun for free labour. That’s... way better than last time, though still scraping the bottom of the barrel.

What gets me is that we have rematches with Beisht as a random raid with no context in this event. Why? I genuinely get the sense that using the fight with Beisht as framing for the Lantern Rite – everyone coming together to defend Liyue, then having the fortitude to celebrate afterwards – would have been a better story to tell. Something something the age of man something.

Anyway, we’re really unironically going to talk about Keqing’s work-life balance and then go visit Xiao and say absolutely nothing when he says he’s still working during the rite. Really. When in the last 2000+ years did Xiao ever have anything resembling a work-life balance….

The Finale

The ending cutscene in this event was rather impressive from a technical standpoint. In fact, it felt like the finale of a much better event. It kicks off with the NPCs you’ve spent time with in Liyue and desperately hopes you’ll recognise most of them, then moves on to brief scenes of several groups of friends celebrating together.

The issue… is.

Most of these people barely have established on-screen relationships? Xingqiu & Chongyun, Qiqi & Baizhu, Beidou & Ningguang do, but everyone else is much shakier – especially when quite a few of these groups interacted for the first time during this event, and even then their dynamics were watered down because the game wanted to focus on Keqing’s issues instead.

Shenhe & Ganyu spending time together during the Rite is… especially egregious, bc I think those two literally just introduced themselves to each other this event, and that’s it? Ningguang & Beidou had some very flirtatious dialogue, but given how antagonistic their relationship has been up until now (especially on Beidou’s end during Moonchase), that didn’t quite feel right either. And I literally had no idea why Xinyan and Yunjin were so close until I remembered they’re apparently friends according to their bios.

There’s no point showing a grand finale celebrating these bonds when most of them are informed attribute. If anything, it just annoyed me because it highlighted how underdeveloped they were in the first place. No, I don’t count “and their bios swear they’re close!” – show, don’t tell.

Xiao

Setting aside how laughable it is that this event is about Keqing attaining a healthy work-life balance and we visit Xiao of all people, I can’t say I’m too happy with the continuation of his story from 2021’s Lantern Rite.

Last year’s Lantern Rite Festival focused on three things; the sense of community that is so crucial to Liyue during the Festival, Skybracer’s history and you trying to convince Xiao to come to the Lantern Rite.

Though Xiao ultimately refuses to come to the Rite in the Harbour, it being well out of his comfort zone, you compromise and bring the festival to him, resulting in a small meal with the rest of the staff at Wangshu Inn. The general sense is that Xiao is a deeply traumatised man, and it will take baby steps to help him lower his shields and that we’ve made some progress towards doing so.

Uh, so, this year, Xiao refuses to go with you to the Lantern Rite again, there’s an optional scene where he outright says that “anyone that wants to see him will come find him” …and he spends the Rite alone watching the staff at Wangshu celebrate without him.

Feels bad, man.

I could live with Xiao not hanging out with us if I felt like he had someone else to spend time with – Zhongli, the staff at the inn, Pervases’ temple, whatever. This is especially jarring given that Xiao was absolutely fine going to a quiet, secluded place in the harbour during the Moonchase Festival, so I feel we could’ve tried to arrange something (especially since we actually spent the end of the rite at the Jade Chamber). Unfortunately, it was decided our date this year was with Keqing, so despite this event continuously bringing up our desire to spend time with him at the Rite and even hinting that he might join in, unlike last year we were unwilling to make any compromises to spend time with him.

Really does just feel like we went 1 step forward and 2 steps back.

I wonder if his ‘anyone that wants to see me…’ line was trying to hint that he wanted the Traveller to come to the inn again. Sucks to be him if so. I kind of ended this event with a sour taste in my mouth because of it.

#ac plays genshin impact #genshin impact spoilers

10 notes · View notes

whump-tr0pes · 3 years

Text

Honor Bound 5 - 33

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Content warning: self-hatred, death threats, discussion of death, gun

“Isaac!” Sam cried hoarsely as he opened the front door.

They came barreling into his arms, burying their head against his chest and squeezing him tight. Isaac’s eyes pricked with tears as he wrapped his arms around them and pressed a kiss to the crown of their head. He released them a moment later. He could barely breathe. His blood pulsed beneath his skin, his heart pounding in his chest, every nerve throbbing.

Tomorrow.

I’m going to get him back tomorrow.

Isaac looked up at the others, all crowded into the kitchen. Finn and Ellis had their arms wrapped tightly around each other, huddled in the corner, their faces pale. Vera stood beside Tori. Her mouth was set, her gaze steady on Isaac as he walked in, tucking Sam beneath his arm. Edrissa shifted her eyes away, standing on the opposite end of the kitchen as Zachariah. Zachariah’s face was haggard. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the month and a half since he’d reached the family. Deep circles were carved under his eyes, and his hands shook at his sides. Gray stood in the middle of the others, eyes wide and focused on nothing. Isaac thought he saw the glimmer of tears as they blinked and looked up at him.

“Um… h-haven’t made the call yet?” Isaac croaked.

“No,” Gray said weakly. “Wanted to… w-wait on you.”

Isaac’s throat tightened as he glanced around at the others. Every second they waited, Gavin suffered. Every inch of Isaac’s body ached with terror, with the unending pulse of hatred that burned through him with each heartbeat: my fault. My fault. My fault.

“L-let’s get it done, then,” he rasped. He felt like he would jump out of his skin if he had to wait another moment. His hand twitched for the gun he had tucked in his waistband. Vera’s eyes caught the motion. Her mouth twisted.

Silently, Gray pulled the cell phone out of their pocket and flipped it open. They hit redial and put the phone on speaker. They held the phone out in the middle of the group. It trembled in their hand.

It rang once. Twice.

There was a muffled clatter on the other end, and a harried voice sounding slightly out of breath answered. “Hello?”

The voice was unfamiliar, but it still sent a chill down Isaac’s spine. This was the firefighter that was going to walk into the town hall tomorrow and lead Isaac to Gavin. This person was going to help save Gavin tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

The possibility of failure didn’t even cross his mind. Gavin was at the town hall; Isaac knew it with every fiber of his being. He was going to save him. The only way he was not going to have Gavin in his arms tomorrow night was if he was no longer breathing.

“H-hello, Vanya,” Gray said with a shaking voice. “The whole gang is here. You’re on speaker.”

“Good, good,” Vanya said distractedly. A shuffling sound. “Sorry, I’m trying to get somewhere where I can talk.”

“Take your time,” Gray said breathlessly.

There was the whisper of movement, the distant sound of a door closing. Vanya’s voice seemed more muffled than before. “Alright, I can talk. Let’s, uh… let’s go over things.”

“What’s the plan?” Isaac said, unable to keep silent any longer. He bit his lip and clutched Sam tighter. They leaned against him and squeezed him back.

“Well first I… I’m, um, sorry for the short notice. This was the soonest I could schedule it and I felt like you’d want to—”

“Yes,” Isaac choked. “Y-yes.”

There was a deep breath over the line. “Okay. Okay. Good. So here’s my plan, the way I have it: I’m going to go to the town hall tomorrow to do a simple fire inspection. I’ve done half the town by now, and the town hall is right in line with the pattern I’ve been taking from east to west. There’s no reason for Schiester to suspect I’m doing anything out of the ordinary.”

Isaac nodded as Vanya spoke. His skin felt like it was buzzing.

Vanya continued. “I’m not going to do a complete fire inspection, because honestly, that would be a waste of time. That building is old enough that it might not even have a fire suppression system. But it’ll probably have an alarm system. There will be a room with an alarm panel that I can check. Sometimes there will even be a premise map that’ll give a detailed map of every floor… but I doubt it.”

“If DFS has been keeping captives in the basement, I doubt he’d leave a map up,” Vera said harshly.

Isaac huffed out a breath. Come on, come on…

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway. There will be an alarm panel that will probably give me a good idea of how many floors there are. We have to consider the fact that there might be more than one underground floor.”

Isaac’s breath rushed out of him. He hadn’t considered—

“Isaac, this is where you come in,” Vanya said.

Isaac’s body went rigid. Ice crawled into his veins. “Y-yeah?”

“I’m assuming you’re going to be the one going in after him, based on what I talked about with Gr—”

“Yes,” Isaac snapped. His arm tightened around Sam. “I’m going in.”

“Good. Okay. Well, if there are any floors that show up on a premise map or on the alarm panel that the mayor won’t let me access, I figure there’s a pretty good chance that’s where to search. So… once I get a good idea of where Gavin is being kept—”

Isaac sucked in a breath. To hear someone else say Gavin’s name, someone Isaac didn’t know and couldn’t be sure he could trust, made his skin itch.

“—I’m going to get a message out to you. A call or text, probably, so I can send details. But I’ll figure it out. If there is a premise map, I can even give you turn by turn instructions.”

“I’ll find a way in,” Isaac said darkly. “I will.”

“Okay. Well… that’s where my part ends, I guess. I can really only get you the info on whether or not he’s there.”

“He’s there,” Isaac ground out through his teeth. “He has to be there.”

There was a long pause over the line. Then, “Yeah. It would make sense.”

Gray cleared their throat. “At that point, I’ll already be there with the car for my shift like normal. I’ll help Isaac and Gavin to the car.”

Isaac met Gray’s gaze and chewed his lip. Gray’s eyes shone with tears. Their face hardened into a look of agonized determination. Isaac blinked as he realized there were dried tear tracks on their cheeks. He swallowed hard and looked again at the phone in Gray’s hand.

“I’ll be waiting in the car,” Finn said. Their voice broke. “With my, um… med kit.”

Everyone was silent for a long moment. Then Vanya said, “I’m still working on gathering supplies for making a functioning fire department with… maybe a transporting ambulance soon. What are you planning on taking? I… You’re welcome to whatever I have.”

Finn’s throat bobbed as they swallowed. “Basic trauma stuff,” they said in a monotone. “Suture kits, tourniquets, trauma dressings, ten-gages, SAM splints, then…” They counted off on their fingers. “Fentanyl, ketamine, fluids, dextrose, epi, IV and IO kit, benzos, blankets and heat packs, vital signs stuff, my, um, airway kit w-with the surgical cric kit…” They shuddered, their face going paler by the second. “I’m thinking about packing some IV antibiotics just in case… Let me think, um…” They wet their lips. “Should I pack anything else?” they said in a quavering voice.

There was the uneasy sound of Vanya clearing their throat. “Um… not anything I can think of. That was, um… a lot more than I thought you’d be packing. I… if you need all that…” They fell silent. “Um… d-do you… have a hospital in mind if he, um… needs that?”

“No hospitals,” Finn said dully. “Whatever is wrong is something that… I n-need to fix.”

Isaac raised his head to look at them. His heart sank at the look of overwhelm overshadowed by flat determination on their face.

They feel as responsible for them as I do, just… different. He felt a swell of gratitude in his chest that threatened to choke him.

“Well… alright,” Vanya said softly. “If you need a restock before you head north again… just let me know. I’ll do my best to get supplies to you.”

“Thank you,” Finn said brokenly. Their eyes filled with tears. Ellis clutched their arm and they hugged Ellis tightly.

“We can’t bring too many people,” Vera said, her eyes unfocused. “Otherwise I would… I… would go.” She nodded slowly and looked up at Isaac. “You know I—”

“I know,” he said gruffly. He shivered like a chill had just gone through him. Sweat prickled under his shirt. “That means that… I… should probably be down there already when Gray arrives.” He rubbed his wrist against his hip, barely feeling the scrape of his belt against the scars that itched there. “I’ll head back into town after this, get a ride south. I’ll make sure no one sees or follows.”

“Where will you stay?” Vera said softly.

“In a fucking tent,” Isaac snapped. “On the sidewalk. In a dumpster. I don’t care. I’ll figure it out.” Before the words were fully out, Isaac ducked his head. He looked up at Vera beneath his lashes, already shrinking with shame.

A muscle ticked in Vera’s jaw. She stood perfectly still beside Tori, looking at Isaac evenly.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispered. “I… I’m…”

“It’s okay,” Vera said, and Isaac raised his head again. “I’m just… trying to work out the details.”

“I would offer my place, but… we really shouldn’t risk you being seen with me,” Vanya said, sounding apologetic.

“I could ask Mathias,” Isaac said. “He might say yes.”

“We’ll figure it out as soon as we hang up with you, Vanya,” Gray said. For the first time since Isaac had left to search the north, Gray sounded… not quite hopeful, but like there was a little bit of life in their voice again. Their fingers were white where they clutched the phone. “Thank you, Vanya. Truly. I… can’t express how grateful I am for your help. How grateful we all are.”

“Y-yeah,” Isaac croaked. “Thank you.”

The others all murmured their thank yous. Even Edrissa, speaking for the first time. She still leaned away from Isaac, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Well… I’ll, um, get going. If you need anything, call me back on this number. Also, the inspection is scheduled for ten AM, so…”

“I’ll be there,” Isaac said with iron in his voice. His hand itched to hold his gun.

“Okay. Well… good, um, good luck, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or not, maybe. Either way…”

“Good luck,” Gray rasped.

“Yeah,” Vanya mumbled. “Alright… take care.”

The line went dead.

Isaac let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He rocked forward, his arm squeezing even tighter around Sam’s shoulders, his eyes burning with tears. His heart felt like it would leap from his chest.

Tomorrow. Ten AM. Tomorrow.

His hands felt numb. He swiped at the tears running down his cheeks and into his beard. He felt something shift inside him, like something was about to snap. Blood pounded in his ears.

“Something we have yet to discuss in detail,” Gray said softly, “Is that… once we… have Gavin, Schiester will most likely come after us.”

“Let him fucking come,” Isaac growled. “I’ll rip that motherfucker’s head from his fucking—”

“If we kill him,” Gray said gently, “We risk facing the anger of the entire north.”

“If we kill Schiester, then we tell the entire fucking north what he’s been doing to kids and innocent people with shit fucking luck when they come through Crayton,” Isaac spat back. Edrissa drew away from Isaac, closer to Tori’s side. Tori’s hand went to her shoulder and stroked back and forth, soothing.

Gray was silent for a moment. Then, they murmured, “We could do that anyway.”

Isaac froze mid-breath, rage crawling under his skin, solidifying into something like vicious hope. “Y-yeah?” he croaked.

Gray shrugged jerkily as they slid the phone back into their pocket. “Even if he took those pictures down, they’re probably still in his office. If I see an opportunity – Gavin is the priority, he’s the only priority, but if I get the chance – I’ll grab them. Find a way to disseminate them. Those…” Gray’s voice twisted. “Those people… Their families deserve to know what happened to them.”

“But Gavin first,” Isaac said brokenly. “I… I need to get Gavin out first.”

Ellis wet their lips and spoke. “Guys… Hate to be the guy to point this out, but he might not be—”

“He is!” Isaac cried, whirling on them. His arm loosened from around Sam’s shoulders. “He is! He… he has to be there. H-he has to be… alive.” His chest tightened with a sob. “He’s there,” he whispered through numb lips. “He has to be.”

Sam wound their arm around his waist again. Their hand brushed the gun tucked in Isaac’s waistband. They froze and looked up at him, their eyes wide. There was a hint of fear in their gaze. Isaac pushed down the feeling of guilt that rose in him and looked away.

“All the same,” Gray said, holding a placating hand out towards Isaac, “We should pack tonight, and be prepared to move. Regardless of how the plan goes.”

“It’ll work,” Isaac said fiercely.

Gray’s head fell forward. “Regardless,” they continued softly, “We should be ready to move. Finn, Ellis, if you’ll—”

“We’ve been ready to go for weeks,” Ellis said, and shifted their feet. “We never really unpacked. Let’s be honest… we knew this was going to get ugly. But once we have the idiot back…” They shrugged and stared at their shoes. “We can settle in then. Wherever it is we end up.”

Isaac’s throat was tight. “And I should get going,” he murmured. “I need to get back home, find a discreet ride south. I, um… I need to figure that out.”

Sam’s arm tightened around his waist again, and he looked down at them. They stared up at him, tears welling in their eyes. He pulled them close and crushed them to his chest.

“Isaac,” Sam whimpered against his shirt.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Isaac murmured against their hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, with Gavin. I’ll have him tomorrow.”

Sam shuddered and clutched at him. “I… I know.”

Tears burned in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed their forehead, trying to ignore the tears than ran into their hair. “Love you,” he whispered. Dread ached in his stomach at how much the words sounded like goodbye.

He swayed with them, realizing for the first time how much he’d missed this. He missed his little sibling in his arms, clutched tight. He’d barely seen them at all for the past…

The past thirty-five days.

They sniffled and pulled away. Vera was at his side, and she pulled him into a hug as well. He wound his arms around her waist and nearly lifted her off the floor with how hard he squeezed her.

“We’ll get our boy back,” Vera mumbled, her face pressed against his shoulder. “We’ll get him back.”

Isaac said nothing, only nodded. After a moment, he loosened his hold. She stepped back, and Tori took her place.

They all embraced him, one by one – Gray, Finn, Ellis, Zachariah. Even Edrissa walked up to him and stiffly stuck her hand out for him to shake. He could feel her fingers trembling. He kept his gaze down and bowed his head apologetically, only too aware of the rage that boiled inside him, just beneath the surface. When she drew back, she wiped her hand on her skirt.

When he turned to leave, Gray held out the phone. “Take this,” they said. “In case we need to contact you.”

Isaac tucked it into his pocket. “Sure thing.” His voice was hoarse. “I just need to grab some things.”

He turned and walked down the hall to the bedrooms. When he stopped in front of the room he’d shared with Gavin, his stomach dropped. He placed his hand on the doorknob. It was cool under his fingers. He drew in a deep breath and turned it, pushing the door open.

His breath caught in his chest. It was exactly the same as he’d left it, the morning he’d discovered Gavin had been taken while he slept. The bedspread was rumpled, the drawer of Gavin’s nightstand still slightly open. The curtain was drawn, but the last rays of the afternoon sun lit the purple fabric, casting the room in a strange, dim light. As he caught his breath again, he was nearly brought to his knees; he could just barely catch a hint of Gavin’s scent still in the room.

Isaac forced down his tears, forced down the way his hands shook, the way he wanted to collapse to the floor and sob his heart out. He went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He took only the knife that lay tucked along the side, the handle sticking out from under a pair of pants. He strapped the sheath to his belt and turned to go to the bed.

He didn’t even have to look as he reached for the knife he had tucked between the mattress and the bedframe all those weeks ago, so that when the time came to protect Gavin from the threat he’d known, somehow, was coming – he could. His fingers wrapped around it and it felt dull in his hands. Heavy. Useless.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

He shoved the thought away and straightened up.

As he walked through to the front of the house again, he looked at his family, still all gathered in the kitchen, huddling together as if for warmth. Tears moved silently down Gray’s face, now. Isaac bit down on his tongue, holding back his own.

“I’ll see you all… tomorrow,” he said, feeling the weight of the gun against his lower back.

“See you,” Vera murmured.

“I’ll call you with any updates,” Gray said, wiping their face on their shirt.

“L-love you, Isaac,” Sam said softly.

“Love you, too,” Isaac croaked. He turned to go. His hand curled around his knife as he pushed open the door and walked out into the golden afternoon sun.

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles

#honor bound 5 #rescue mission #aftermath of kidnapping #Vanya the firefighter #Zachariah: a boy who needs a nap #Isaac's self-loathing #death threats tw #death discussion tw #gun tw

63 notes · View notes

pinkchanelbag · 4 years

Note

#500.1 eren + pain

you got . . . . .

stretch.

eren is sure that if it’s at all possible for all of the blood in a person’s body to stop moving all at once, this is what it feels like.

the entire squad has managed to scale up the sloping castle wall that’s on the verge of collapse. the whole place is falling apart, too much damage done by titans to stay standing, but there is one safehouse: a reinforced building in the centre courtyard, filled with desperately needed supplies. the entire squad ran out of gas and was forced to find a way up the wall by hand. you and eren are holding up the rear so that he can transform if need be, but the more of his comrades that manage to hoist themselves into the the third highest storey window, he realizes his window of transformation has passed, since he would collapse the entire wall if he did turn. but it’s okay, he won’t need to anymore, because they’ve made it.

he can’t remember ever making the mistake of not letting you go in first.

he’s hopping the last rooftop on the wall that looks like the world’s steepest ladder, finally squeezing through the tiny window when he hears the dark crashing of boulders falling to the earth. the wall is crumbling in on itself like a stone avalanche. and he hears the scream, the blood-stopping scream, that you let out and a vague thud, and he whips around to look out the window only to find that jagged stones the size of barrels fell from the battlement and onto the window’s rooftop, blocking more than half of the exit.

“Y/N!” eren yells. he throws himself against the window and sticks as much of his body out of the window as he can, which is almost nothing. a hole just wide enough to jam his head and a single shoulder through it.

“EREN!” your scream is filled with terror and it takes only one moment to see why as eren sees the titan approaching. easily a ten-meter, though it wouldn’t be able to reach eren unless it jumped. he realizes in horror that it might easily reach you.

finally, he sees you between the wreckage of stone. the debris dropped you down almost two stories, but you try and make quick work of retracing your steps. but there’s a limp.

“ARE YOU HURT?”

you’re limping. there’s panic in eren’s voice. he sounds almost like a little boy. and he knows it’s bad when you don’t even reply, too concentrated on trying to haul yourself up while making hhhnnhhngggguughh noises of pained effort.

“I’M COMING, I’M COMING,” eren yells. he’s just vaguely aware of his squad behind him, looking on in terror and looking for another exit. the titan is slow, still hasn’t noticed you, but still it draws closer.

“NO, STAY UP THERE!” you tell him. eren grunts in frustration as one of his shoulders stings in pain in its attempt to fit through the hole. the boulders blocking his way have compounded into one powerful wall, and his human form can’t push against them. but in desperation, he knows, he knows he can’t transform, knows that even if he did and the wall collapsed, he might save you in time before you fall but can absolutely not manage to catch his seven other comrades from their deaths. you’re getting closer, about a storey down now where most of the debris settled. eren puts all of himself into stretching his body as near to you as possible. his free hand itches so terribly. he fights the instinct to sink his teeth into the flesh under his thumb and violently, desperately, bitterly, forces himself to choose his comrade’s lives over your own.

you let out an anguished cry, because the climbing route you’d more or less eyed out was completely demolished by the boulders which now formed a too-tall wall before you. the slow, pounding footsteps stop for a moment, and your heart stops alongside them. and you know the moment the titan has seen you when the pounding resumes, faster, more purposeful.

“Y/N!” eren screams. you grab at the boulder in front of you, hands reaching to find holds and legs bending to mime out the action of climbing as if it will save you. you ignore the way you can’t feel past the pain in your left leg, how your whole body crumples when you try to put weight on it. you know what’s coming, and you think that it would be better to say the noble thing or maybe to make a final attempt to fight, but the truth is that you’re scared. and you don’t want to die.

“eren.” you can’t the weeping from your voice as your fingers scrape and cut against merciless grey. you manage one foothold. you gasp and bring yourself up onto it, but it’s not nearly enough. you can see eren’s hands. you can hear his voice but his words don’t register. you don’t want to die.

“GIVE ME YOUR HAND!” you finally hear him say, and you can’t pull yourself out of panic to tell him that you’re trying, you’re trying but you can’t reach. you come down from the foothold and step your right foot on it before putting all your weight into your toes and pushing yourself up as hard as you can. the pounding earth grows louder between your ears.

you’re closer now. eren’s yells turn urgent, hopeful, because you’re so close. “DO THAT AGAIN!” he yells, and you follow his orders in numb terror. getting down, placing your foot, and launching up. closer still. again. tears well into your eyes on the third attempt when your fingertips brush eren’s.

“COME ON!” he yells, and he’s less desperate sounding, but dread fills his chest at how close the titan is.

you flatten your body against the boulder and screech in pain as you place your left foot into a divot in the stone to bring you just a bit closer. you lean your body, angle it so that you have the most reach with your dominant hand, and eren is doing the same, extending every single joint, every muscle stretched as painfully as possible down to stick-straight fingertips that cry out to reach their destination. and your fingertips touch.

“come on,” eren tells you. you’re close enough to hear him over the footsteps. your eyes are squeezed shut in effort, in pain, with hot tears leaking out and your teeth gritted. “come on. come on, just a bit more. for me.” you listen to his voice and let it drown out what’s coming. the stretch sets burning aches all through your arm, and eren’s unused shoulder is surely suffering deep cuts at the way he pushes himself forcefully through the window. both at your limit and maintaining a place there, but your trembling fingers brush against each other and and flail desperately for more.

the footsteps stop.

“come on,” eren pleads. his voice breaks. “for me.”

you open your eyes and look up at him and you’re sure he sees the terror in them but you desperately hope that more than that, he sees the love.

you manage to push the pad of your index finger into his, putting pressure in the closest thing you get to an embrace, to holding on. your eyes are on his eyes, and you won’t let yourself see anything else, and he refuses to look at what’s unfolding.

“be good, okay?” you tell him. and the fleshy hand that’s been slowly reaching up envelops your torso, and your’e pulled away from eren’s touch. and all he can do is watch.

note: i have no words. GODDAMN.

#fortune500 #nia.eren #nia.txt #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren angst

65 notes · View notes

peachcitt · 4 years

Text

falling, flying

a miraculous ladybug fic

for @softkwami for @mlsecretsanta

Tags: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladrien, Adrinette, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MLB Wing Au

Summary:

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

in which marinette and adrien speed toward a foreseeable end on purpose. and also a little bit on accident

read on ao3

enjoy :)

Marinette felt, all things considered, that this situation was not her fault.

Granted, she was the one who threw herself into the fight without coming up with a plan, but how was that supposed to be her fault when this akuma had started making problems exactly seven minutes before her chemistry exam? She’d stayed up nearly all night cram studying (that much, she’ll admit, was her fault), and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up on time to at least get a B minus on it. So she’d barreled into the fight without Chat because she really wanted to get this all over with. She could hardly be blamed for that.

And she certainly couldn’t be blamed for the fact that she was currently speeding toward the hard cement ground right outside a posh business building in the heart of the city at terminal velocity, hands, legs, and wings bound tight.

Sure, there was that comment she’d made to the already very upset akuma about his nose, but, well.

Okay, so maybe this situation was a little bit her fault.

But, like, that was just the nature of being a superhero.

Sometimes, you ended up speeding toward a very foreseeable end, knowing that it’s going to hurt, but not quite knowing how to avoid it. And that’s just life, too.

Not that she was going to let herself become a smear of sidewalk gum. She had her miraculous to protect, after all, and she also had this Daedalus-damn chemistry test that she was going to get a B minus on - no, screw that - a B plus on. There was also the matter of dying at the tender age of seventeen, but that existential dread didn’t touch her as she watched her pissed-off reflection follow her down, down, down on the polished windows of the building she had been thrown off of.

It’s not like she could rely on Chat to get her out of this one. Who knows when he’d show up.

She twisted around in the air, trying to maneuver her bound arms to her hip, where her yo-yo was. If she could grab it, she could summon her lucky charm, and she could stop her fall with the help of a handy-dandy polka-dotted tube of chapstick, or something.

The tips of her fingers brushed against her yo-yo, and her arms ached. Icarus above, the akuma couldn’t have tied her arms in the front of her body? At least then she wouldn’t have to try and bend her left arm at a weird angle to get around her wings.

This, as it turned out, was becoming a dire situation.

She had about ten floors to go before she would eat cement. Her left arm was cramping, and her fingers could only brush up against the feathers of her bound wings instead of anywhere near the yo-yo. She tried to stretch her wings out, test the binds, and only ended up crying out in frustrated pain.

Well. She could always aim for a clumsy rolling landing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaking breath through her nose, and braced herself for the inevitable impact. The bitter cold air whipped past her cheeks, and she released the breath she was holding.

This was fine.

She’d had more than a few landings that had left her battered and bruised throughout her lifetime, and this was just another one.

Not that she’d ever fallen off of a thirty story building before, but, like, semantics. She would probably be fine.

Unless she died.

Just as the thought occurred to her, her body connected with something hard, a jolt traveling through her bones, and she sucked in a punishing breath, eyes flying open.

But she hadn’t hit cement, like she first thought. She’d hit-

She’d been caught in someone’s arms.

There was a familiar smell - mint and spice - and she relaxed into familiar arms. “Nice of you to fly by, Cha-”

The person holding her looked down, and her words caught in her throat.

It was Adrien who had caught her.

Not Chat.

Adrien. Adrien Agreste. Adrien with the beautiful wings he never used to fly, Adrien her classmate, Adrien with the green eyes that sparkled in sunshine and glimmered still on cloudy days, Adrien with the kind smiles, Adrien with the nice hands, Adrien with the nice hands that were currently holding her as they soared up into the air. Adrien freaking Agreste.

“Ah,” she said, and she could feel his hand, gentle, cradling her wings, fingertips light and steady on her feathers.

“I thought you might,” he started, his cheeks coloring, “uh, need a hand.”

“Right,” she said rather weakly. They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he looked away, looking for a suitable place to land. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes following the strong line of his jaw, up the smooth curve of his cheek, over the sharp bridge of his nose. Her eyes caught on a little crease in between his eyebrows, and she frowned.

Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she saw they were pinched tightly, as if he was in pain but trying to hide it.

“Are you-” she started, and then stopped, breath catching in her throat. His wings. She was only just now looking at them properly.

“Am I what?” he asked, glancing down at her as they landed gracefully on the next building over from the one she’d been thrown off of. He tucked his wings back in their normal, perfectly straight posture, and his pinched expression relaxed.

But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. His wings - his golden, regal wings she so admired but had never seen spread - had been littered with spots that had been rubbed raw. Feathers falling, skin red. Raw.

“Your wings,” she said, and she felt his grip tighten on her legs, but he just as quickly relaxed, setting her down with a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, moving around her so that he could untie her hands and wings. “Not really.”

“It looks like it hurts,” she said, shaking out her wings once they were free and bending down to untie her ankles.

“It doesn’t,” he said, and she looked up at him, at his perfect posture that hid his injuries.

She stood, and his gaze followed her. She reached out a hand, shaking fingers just barely brushing along his smooth outer feathers. Her eyes met his, and he took in an unsteady breath. “Doesn’t it?” she asked, and he shrugged half-heartedly, feathers bristling.

“Not usually.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, pained, and he blinked. And she remembered.

She wasn’t supposed to know him. Sure, she’d saved him a couple times with the mask on, but she wasn’t supposed to whisper his name like she knew him, like she felt for him.

“S-sorry,” she said, stepping away, and she saw, belatedly, that his hand was reaching for her. Her heart ached. “I- you- we.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “I have to get back to the fight. You should get to safety.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Neither of them moved.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

Chat showed up not long after that, and they made quick work of the akuma. Marinette avoided any more comments about his nose, rolled her eyes along to Chat’s dumb jokes, and tried not to think about Adrien.

During her chemistry exam - which she showed up ten minutes late for - she also tried not to think about Adrien. But he was sitting right in front of her, and every time she looked up to think, his wings were right there. Regal, golden. Raw.

How many people had seen his wings spread up close like that? Adrien never flew anywhere - he never had to. Perks of being the son of a famous fashion mogul who owned fancy cars and private jets. In gym, he always ran laps because of a daily doctor’s note - who knows what it said. He always took the stairs instead of flight paths, and his wings were always tucked neatly away, glimmering underneath the crappy public school fluorescents.

She tore her eyes away from Adrien’s wings, staring hard down at her test. Icarus, she’d be lucky if she scraped by with a C. Today sucked.

---

“I’m going to spend the entirety of winter break curled up in a blanket nest,” Alya groaned, flopping down at their picnic table. Marinette scooted to the side to make room, hardly looking up from her lunch. “These tests are killer. I think our teachers are out for blood this year.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nino scoffed. “I have my literature exam on lock.”

“Yeah?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrows. “And what about pre-cal?” Nino made a face. “That’s what I thought,” Alya replied.

Adrien looked away from his friends, eyes focusing on Marinette. She’d been acting strange ever since chemistry - she’d shown up late, no doubt caught up in the akuma attack just like half of their class, including him - but this quiet from her seemed more heavy than the quiet dejection of a student afraid of midterms. She kept on shooting him looks and then looking away, like there was something on his face that made her want to cry.

“How have your exams gone, Marinette?” he asked, and she jumped, not expecting to be spoken to. Her eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, a smile forcing itself onto her lips.

“Oh, you know. Terrible. But that’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” he assured. “We’re our own worst critics, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and she squinted her eyes at him, as if trying to mimic a smile reaching up to her eyes, before looking away again.

Well, he was sure she hated him.

Okay, so maybe he was overreacting.

He was definitely - probably - overreacting.

It was just something about Marinette - something about her that always made him think a little too much. He supposed it was a residual rub from the way they had met a couple years ago what with them starting off on the wrong foot, and, yes, he was aware that if he was a healthy person, then he wouldn’t still be overanalyzing their first interaction every time Marinette’s face fell in his presence, but that was beside the point.

He just.

Well. He wanted to be liked by her. And that was natural, to want to be liked by a friend, to want to be liked by someone as amazing as her.

He didn’t want to see her upset. He wanted to see her smile, as much as he was able. She had a wonderful smile, after all.

Marinette’s strange behavior extended through the rest of the week, and on the Friday before break, Adrien mustered up his courage to ask. She normally flew home, so Adrien raced up the stairs to the roof, only just catching her as she was saying goodbye to Alya. Her eyes caught on him, the same color as the bright, cold winter sky, and her eyebrows twisted in something akin to pain.

Alya followed her gaze to him, and her eyebrows raised. She looked back to Marinette, said something that Adrien couldn’t quite hear, squeezed Marinette’s arm, and then lifted off the roof, rust-colored wings causing a wind to rustle through Marinette’s hair. Marinette looked after her for a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, before turning back to Adrien.

“Hey,” he said as he walked closer, and a small smile twitched at her lips - almost as if on instinct.

“Hi,” she replied, tilting her head at him. “You’re flying home?”

“Ah, no, not today,” Adrien said, shaking his head and ignoring the itch of the binds hidden beneath his feathers. “I just, well. Uh.”

This was new. He was normally very good at talking.

Marinette watched him, gaze careful.

“I wanted to ask,” he continued, running a nervous hand through his hair, “if there was anything I’d done. To upset you.”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“Because,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting, “I’ve noticed that you’re more, um, quiet around me than usual, and I” - he remembered his father normally kept his hands clasped behind his back, cold, professional, and he unclasped his hands, stuffing them in his pockets - “I just wanted to know, I suppose. If it was anything I’d done. So that I could apologize.” The air was cold, and a biting breeze nipped at his cheeks and nose. He swallowed. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“I’m not!” Marinette said, hardly before he finished his last sentence, and he blinked. Her cheeks, red with the cold, became a little redder - no doubt from the new gust of wind that brushed past them both. “I’m not upset or angry with you or anything at all like that, not even a little bit! You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re perfect, I promise, I just-” She stopped, biting on her bottom lip, her shoulders travelling up to her ears. She didn’t continue.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asked, and Marinette’s expression travelled somewhere between a smile and a pinched frown.

“Just…” She trailed off, and she reached over, dainty hand settling on his shoulder. He was sure her fingers flexed, brushing along his feathers. “Have a good break, okay? Spread your wings a little bit for me.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then she let go, lifting off from the roof of the school. Her pretty brown wings, speckled with white, carried her through the cold winter air, and Adrien stared after her silhouette.

Spread his wings.

Somehow, Adrien thought, Marinette always seemed to say just the things that made his chest ache.

---

Marinette spent the first half of her winter break thinking. She also spent that first half of her winter break trying not to think. She made dresses and sweaters and pants from old clothes and bedsheets, trying to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t take over. She pricked her fingers more times in those first few days than she had all year.

She looked forward to Morpheusmus by making her friends gifts and dropping them off at their respective houses, determined to keep her spirits high for the holiday.

It was winter, and Morpheusmus was supposed to be all about cheer and friendship and good dreams. Giving gifts to friends and family to encourage peaceful nights through the long dark hours, while nature slept in its cold. And she was giving her gifts with a damn smile on her face, no matter how much she kept thinking about-

She held Adrien’s wrapped gift - a warm red sweater made from the softest fabric she could find - tightly in her arms as she dropped down to the ground in front of the gates of the Agreste mansion. She dropped the package in the drop box, checking twice to make sure she’d signed her name, and then looked up at the mansion. Towering and cold, colder than the winter air.

She’d done some research, on those nights when she couldn’t avoid thinking.

About wing binding.

It was a common practice in well-off families to encourage good posture and to show off wealth. In excessive amounts, it could cause pain and long-term injury to the person binded.

She bit at the inside of her cheek.

So, she was doing something stupid.

It’s not like she decided - right then at the gates to the Agreste mansion - that she’d do what she’d decided to do, but staring up at that awful mansion had certainly encouraged her. It wasn’t her place, to intrude on family affairs, but Daedalus be damned, she didn’t give a shit.

She lo-

She cared about Adrien. It was awful to think about him hurting, every day, all the time. She couldn’t have another friend that meant so much to her living a life of pain - not when she knew that she might be able to do something about it. If she went in and didn’t find any bindings, then she would take her leave and that would be it. But.

But if she did find bindings, then.

Well. It was a stupid plan. A disaster in the making.

But Marinette was quite used to being a step away from disaster.

She found it quite nice, in fact, to step close so disaster for the sake of someone else. It was a nice change of pace from her own disasters.

---

On the last night of Morpheusmus, Adrien walked into his room from a late night kitchen raid to see Ladybug standing before his bed, arms crossed. He froze.

The moonlight stumbled through his windows, reaching out for her, just barely managing to catch its fingers on her red wings, on her dark hair. She turned her head to look at him, bright blue eyes reflecting the stars of the night, and then she looked down at his bed once more.

He realized then that there were things on his bed that hadn’t been there before he’d left for the kitchen.

His bindings.

Each one of them, their unforgiving lines of gold-colored vines, laid out on the bed. But they looked wrong, somehow. He stepped closer, frowning, and he realized, eyes wide, that they’d all been cut apart, each and every one of them.

Ladybug watched his face as he looked over his useless bindings. “Are you wearing one now?” she asked, voice quiet through the night, and Adrien nodded, speechless. He hadn’t gotten the chance to take off the one he’d worn throughout the day. “Come here,” she said softly, beckoning closer, and he followed the sound of her voice as if on instinct.

She turned him around, and he noticed idly that she only came up to his shoulder. But he felt small, smaller than her, and she seemed to know it. But she didn’t do anything with that knowledge, like other people in his life might’ve. She simply moved her hands through the feathers of his wings, gentle fingers finding the clasps of the bindings and undoing them. The bindings fell to the floor, and he turned around, watching her bend down and pick them up.

For a moment, she seemed to consider them for a moment, so little and heavy in her hands, and then she took the pair of scissors she’d left on the bed. And she slowly and methodically cut it apart.

He shivered at the freedom.

“I’ll leave a note for your father, if you’d like,” she said, setting down the remnants of the bindings on the bed and admiring her handiwork. “Say it was me who did this.”

“No,” he said, and she looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows. He felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she touched a fleeting hand to his cheek. “He wouldn’t know where to find me,” she said, and then she looked back down at the bindings, her smile turning a little satisfied. “And besides, I chose to get in trouble.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she turned her smile to him, soft and sweet.

“Merry Morpheusmus, Adrien,” she said, and she turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and he caught her wrist in her hand, so small and strong. She turned, raising her eyebrows. “Why?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate.

For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer. And then she sighed, turning and sitting down on his bed. He sat down next to her, heart racing.

“You know of my partner, Chat Noir?” she asked, and he felt himself smile.

“I might’ve heard a thing or two about him,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile before it faded.

“When we first met, he was absolutely terrible at flying,” she said, and Adrien raised his eyebrows. She’d never told him that before. “He was like a toddler,” she said, and Adrien bit back a retort. She didn’t seem to notice. “He was all crash landings and giddy laughter, like he was doing it all for the first time. And his wings…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“His wings?” Adrien prompted, and she let out a small sigh.

“Well, they looked like yours. Damaged. Raw.” She shook her head again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “At first I thought that was just what the miraculous did to him for his disguise, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe… That maybe outside of the mask, he probably didn’t fly.”

She paused, and Adrien ached.

“I asked him once, if it hurt,” she said softly. “He told me it didn’t. Not then. Not with the magic.”

He remembered. Remembered the way her expression broke.

“Chat gets to fly - during fights, yes - but still. He gets to fly. Without pain.” She turned her eyes to him, and he saw all the weight of the world there in her eyes. “I saw your wings, when you rescued me, and it reminded me of him. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought…” She trailed off, letting out something that might’ve been a laugh. “Sorry, it’s silly.”

“Please,” Adrien said, voice breaking of its own accord, “tell me.”

“I just thought,” she started, eyes finding his again, “that if I couldn’t help him, then I might be able to help you.”

And, like, Adrien was no stranger to the rush of emotion in his chest; of course he wasn’t. But he always chose not to act on it most days because he was always afraid - afraid of losing her.

He leaned in.

This was a bad idea.

She leaned in, too.

But sometimes.

Well.

Sometimes it was perfectly understandable to act on a bad idea, wasn’t it? It’s not like he could be blamed for doing so, not when she was in front of him, soft and vulnerable, powerful and beautiful. She’d given him more than he could ever have asked for, and she’d done it simply because she cared.

This was a bad idea, but that was alright.

Their lips met.

It was a gentle, fragile thing - their kiss. It was soft and it was hesitant, and Adrien hoped even as he didn’t that she could feel how much she meant to him. His hand reached up, and he cradled her cheek, thumb tracing along the edge of her mask. She let out a small sigh against his mouth, pushing closer.

He felt, almost, like she was trying to tell him something. Something important.

And then she pulled away, blue eyes heavy on him. She stood, and she cupped his face in her hands, something sad and indecipherable travelling across her face. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheeks, and he reached up, holding on to her wrists, loosely. He wanted her to stay. He knew she had to go.

She brushed the hair away from his forehead, and she pressed a kiss there, soft and caring. “Sweet dreams, Adrien,” she whispered against his skin, and he closed his eyes. Her hands left him, and he mourned the loss. “Spread your wings a little bit for me, okay?”

His eyes flew open, but she was already gone, his window open and welcoming in the cold night air.

He ran to the window, leaning out and letting the wintry air bite at his cheeks as he stared after her silhouette.

“Marinette,” he whispered.

He was probably wrong.

But he didn’t feel wrong.

He felt - awfully, terribly, wonderfully - right.

---

Marinette spent the next few days thinking about mint and spice.

It’s what Chat always smelled like - not that she’d, like, made an active effort to notice. It was just that in the heat of a battle, he’d catch her or she’d catch him or they’d be huddled close and she would smell it. Mint and spice. That was what Chat smelled like.

It was also what Adrien’s room smelled like.

What Adrien himself had smelled like - when he’d caught her, falling mid-air. When he’d kissed her, sweet and gentle.

Against her better judgement, Marinette was having thoughts. And feelings.

A whole lot of feelings.

So when Adrien showed up at the bakery, wearing the soft red sweater she’d given him for Morpheusmus, Marinette had done what any rational person would do.

She sprinted out the back door of the bakery.

Was it the best possible thing she could do in that situation? No, absolutely not. She knew that. And that was fine.

She was speeding toward an end, an end she wasn’t quite sure if she would like, so she squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that she was alright with free-falling just so she wouldn’t have to look down at the fast approaching ground.

“Marinette!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at the sky, following the sound of her name. It was Adrien, above her, beautiful frame backlit by the bright winter sky. His wings looked better - still a little raw, but better.

Marinette considered running.

Adrien landed in front of her, graceful and intentional, and his eyes searched her. “Why did you run away?”

“Bug,” Marinette answered immediately, her mouth providing her with a lie. “On the cash register. A bug.”

He tilted his head at her, stepping closer, slowly, carefully, like she was a flighty bird.

Which.

Yeah.

“You mean it wasn’t because of me?”

So that was super rude of him, to look so honest.

Marinette let out a strained sound from the back of her throat, throwing her hands up into the air and turning away from him.

“It’s because of the- the Daedalus-damned mint!” she exclaimed, whirling around to face him again. He had a confused sort of smile on his face. “And the- the stupid spice! And your wings, a little bit- no, a lot a bit. It’s all so much- which is. Which is absolutely-” She cut herself off with a frustrated groan, shaking her head and meeting his gaze.

His eyes were so green. His hair so gold, the strands wind-blown and familiar.

“It’s all just so much like him,” she said, her voice breaking into quiet.

Something in his expression cracked open, and he smiled, bright and honest as the sun. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it!” He laughed as he said it, throwing his arms around her and pulling her close.

“Adrien-”

“You said the same thing that night,” he said, pulling away and holding her by the shoulders, grin wild. “‘Spread your wings a little bit for me.’ I didn’t want to hope I was right.”

She felt like she was falling.

She felt like she was flying.

“You know,” she said, and he nodded, excited.

“And you know, too,” he said, “don’t you?” And she realized that she did. She’d known for a while.

“Oh, Icarus save me,” she breathed, and then she grabbed Adrien - Chat Noir, her partner, her best friend - by the collar of the soft red sweater she’d made for him, and she kissed him hard.

And he kissed her back, just as hard. She could feel his smile, pressed up close to her mouth, and she laughed, breathing in the wonderfully familiar mint and spice.

---

Looking at this rationally, Adrien was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. His father wasn’t going to be happy about him getting a girlfriend, let alone getting a girlfriend that cuts up all the new bindings he buys with a gleam in her eyes that is, quite honestly, downright terrifying.

However, Adrien didn’t like being rational. He did like this bad idea, though, and all it was speeding toward.

And Marinette felt far from a bad idea, she felt like soft feathers and softer kisses, gentle smiles and quick laughs. She felt like everything absolutely and totally right, and he couldn’t exactly fault himself for falling - flying toward her.

It was only natural.

That much, at least, he was sure of.

hey apple i hope you loved this as much as i loved writing it (can you tell i got carried away a little bit? because i did. i totally did) and i hope anyone else reading this enjoys at least one sentence. it doesn’t really matter which one

happy holidays everyone!! i hope you’re able to spend this winter, no matter what you celebrate, safe and happy and surrouned by things you love

thank you so much for reading<3<3<3

#ml secret santa #softkwami #miraculous ladybug #mlb fic #adrinette #ladrien #mlb wing au #tbh? i saw ladrien on your likes list and blacked out and now we're here. god i love ladrien so much #also YES if youre wondering i DID look up mythological beings with wings to create a new holiday for fanfiction bird people #so. if you're wondering. morpheus is the greek god commonly associated with dreams and sleep and he is commonly depicted with wings #why greek? it followed the daedalus/icarus theme #see? i think about things sometimes #ANYWAYS thank u so much for reading (if youre still reading these tags) happy holidayds love u goodnight

131 notes · View notes

turnthedirtintojoy · 3 years

Text

I finished Rule of Wolves last night and although it was a thoroughly enjoyable read (as everything Leigh Bardugo writes) and an overall satisfying ending to the series, I do have mixed feelings about some of the choices that were made. And there were some VERY big plot holes. Some thoughts below the cut. Beware: spoilers.

Things I liked:

It was so nice to dive into this world one more (last?) time and to see all our beloved characters again (my Crow babies, Alina, Mal, Misha, Oncat...). Leigh’s writing was on point as always, and she really did a great job expanding this universe as well. We got to discover Shu Han and see a bit more of Fjerda, and this novel, I feel, has a lot more scope than the previous ones.

Leigh’s main strength remains her characters. Nikolai was delightful as always. Zoya’s arc was absolutely amazing. Nina was still the badass waffle-loving pansexual queen we all love.

Rule of Wolves offers great representation with a diverse set of characters. I never really clicked with Hanne’s character, but their story was told with grace and subtlety, and I love that Fjerda now has a gender non-conforming Grisha ruler (and they don’t even know it). Zoya’s road to acceptance of her Suli origins was also a nice touch.

I’m really grateful that we got a happy ending for most of the characters. Obviously I love that Nikolai and Zoya are endgame. Nina has found love and joy again. And although we only got a brief glimpse of the rest of the Crows, I like where they’re at (Wesper living happily, Kaz ruling the Barrel while Inej rules the True Sea).

Things I didn’t like:

So many plot holes and inconsistencies...

1. Let’s talk about the Ice Court, this supposedly unbreachable Fjerdan stronghold. It takes a whole book for the Crows to break into it, and they literally have to blow a hole in the wall with a tank to get out of it. But in ROW, although it is specifically stated security has been reinforced since the prison break, people seem to come and go as they please. Nina breaks into the Drüskelle sector not once, but twice. Not to mention Magnus Opjer who mysteriously manages to escape with nothing but a bone dart. Sorry, I don’t buy it.

2. The ending to Nina and Hanne’s story makes absolutely zero sense whatsoever. Why would Nina choose to keep Mila’s face? Couldn’t Prince Rasmus just marry Nina Zenik now that Fjerda is at peace with Ravka? It would make sense as a political alliance for the Prince to marry a Grisha. I hate that Nina will have to live as someone else for decades. Also, are we supposed to believe that Hanne will fool everyone as Prince Rasmus? A large chunk of KOS is devoted to Isaak’s training and difficulties to impersonate Nikolai, a man he has known for years and with the help of his closest friends (Genya, Tolya, Tamar...). He barely scrapes it in front of nobles, but Hanne will somehow manage to pass as Prince Rasmus, a man she barely knows, in front of his parents? That seems highly unlikely... One would say improbable.

3. As much as I adore the Crows, their appearance feels a bit forced and doesn’t really work narratively. I loved the Ketterdam chapters (of course I did), but they don’t really belong in Rule of Wolves and feel out of place. First, why would Nikolai and Zoya go in person? Also, we are talking about a Demon King and a Dragon Queen with an army of Grisha at their service, and they can’t manage without the help of Kaz Brekker, a 19-year old gangster, to steal stuff? Once was cute, twice is pushing it.

4. Since when are there Suli settlements in Kerch? And if Kaz knew it, why wouldn’t he tell Inej? This makes no sense.

Apart from this gaping holes, there are a couple of choices Leigh made that I am not a fan of. I mean, why kill David? On his wedding day no less! Hasn’t Genya suffered enough? I usually like a good character death, but this felt needlessly cruel and and it didn’t really advance the plot or the character.

The other thing that sort of bugged me were the two main romances which felt really dragged out. I love slow burns as much as the next person, but not every relationship needs to be slow burnt. It took almost two books for Nikolai/Zoya and Nina/Hanne to admit their feelings for each other while it was obvious to everyone involved that they liked each other since early in KOS. Leigh was trying really hard to find excuses to keep them apart until the very end and it kind of got tiresome at one point.

Finally, let’s talk about the Darkling’s storyline. COMPLETELY UNECESSARY. I mean he is by far my favourite antagonist in the Grishaverse (the other ones are a bit too one-dimensional), but bringing him back for so little was a waste of pages. I really didn’t like his arc: it felt forced and rushed and made very little sense. The blight storyline was solved in one chapter and didn’t really tie in with the rest of the story. Unpopular opinion but I also didn’t like that the Darkling had POV chapters. Kind of ruins the mystery of the character. I was fine with his ending (endless agony in exchange for Sainthood), but the fact that Genya, Alina and Zoya changed their minds five pages later kind of ruined the whole thing...

Despite its flaws, I still loved the book and devoured it in only a few days. I’m always sad when I finish a Grishaverse book and have to say goodbye to these characters, but thankfully we have the show coming out in a few days!

What did you guys think of ROW?

#rule of wolves #rule of wolves spoilers #grishaverse #shadow and bone #leigh bardugo #row #row spoilers #six of crows #soc #s&b #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #nina zenik

48 notes · View notes

trulivin · 4 years

Text

Hands Off, Please

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fic that I wanted to share with you just so you could get a sense of my writing style and whatnot. Please let me know what you think and requests are open

Kaz Brekker X Reader, Six Of Crows

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse in the past but nothing too graphic!

*I also made this aesthetic so if you would like to use it please just tag me or give me credit for it! And yes I know my gif is janky, but it’s fine!*

Y/N sat at a table on the main floor of the Slat with Rotty and Specht, waiting for Kaz to get out of his meeting with whoever he had a deal with this time. As a long-time member of the Dregs and someone who was practically brought up by the notorious Dirtyhands, Y/N was held in high respect, partially out of fear, among her fellow Crows. Most of the time at least. Of course everyone teased her and called her ‘the bastard’s queen’ or ‘Brekker’s shadow’ because he had always left her in charge whenever he was busy, or she somehow was allowed to beat up anyone who was out of hand. People just listened to her since Kaz gave her so much power. Her reputation as the assassin of the Barrel helped as well.

It was surprising to people like Inej, Jesper, Wylan, and Nina to see Kaz get extremely close to someone, but he had let his guard down with Y/N. He could let his guard down with her. Though he would never admit it, Inej could easily notice the slight change in his demeanor when Y/N was around. Even Y/N showed a subtle difference in her eye when she was around Kaz. It was like they were the same person, always watching their own backs behind a mask, but when they were together all the disguises were disregarded. Jesper was also quite convinced the two were in a secret relationship because of how Kaz somehow always picked Y/N out in a room. On a job, Jesper noticed how he would somehow keep an eye on the dark-haired girl and make sure she was out of harm's way, especially during the raid of the Ice Court and the events following that nearly killed them all. But, sadly the two never showed any signs of physical or emotional connection. They were always together but out of each other’s reach in the slightest. However, there had always been an unsaid establishment that Y/N was Kaz’s and no one could have her.

Of course, that wasn’t known to all of the members of the Dregs. Mainly the younger boys and the newest members.

Rotty and Specht saw a couple of the new boys head over to their table and moved over a bit letting the newbies come and join them. Y/N smiled kindly and also scooted over allowing more room at the little table. “Well we did it!” a boy named Flynn said on Y/N’s right. “Oh did you now,” Specht smirked at Rotty and Y/N. Flynn and Riker were sent to shake up some filthy wannabe boss for the money he owed Kaz for getting him out of trouble.

“So you got the money then?” Y/N asked, bored already with this lot. The newbies smirked and plopped a leather bag on the table in front of her. She leaned back, slightly impressed these idiots actually did it. Of course she trailed after them, making sure they could actually get the job done. The guy may not have had a lot of people backing him, but he had two other guys that could easily take out two, arrogant teenagers.

“We sure did, sweetheart,” Riker smirked at her. Y/N raised an eyebrow at the boy. Rotty and Specht dropped their grins and their eyes went cold. “Watch your mouth,” Rotty snarled. Y/N was actually somewhat excited to see how this would unfold. No, she did not appreciate the little rat calling her that, but if a fight was about to break out she wouldn’t be opposed to that. “I didn’t do anything,” Riker said putting his hands up as if he were surrendering but Y/N could see a glint in his eye. She rolled her eyes. Boys she thought.

Y/N was undeniably a sight for sore eyes in the Barrel so she was bound to draw attention from people, but no one in the Dregs dared to make a move out of fear of what Kaz Brekker would do to them.

“So we got the money. What do we get in return?” Flynn asked. Y/N, Specht, and Rotty sent him a nasty look. “A place to crash and more jobs,” Specht snapped. “Surely we get something better,” Flynn pressed, winking at Y/N. Who the hell was this kid? It was cute at first, but the jokes were already getting old. Riker seemed content with sitting in silence and not pressing on with the jokes and almost looked as shocked as Specht, Rotty, and Y/N at his friend’s response. She glanced up at Per Haskell’s old office hoping Kaz would be finished soon, but the door remained closed. “Why don’t you keep your dicks in your pants boys,” Y/N snapped. If Rotty and Specht were dogs, the hairs on the back of their necks would be bristling. The two had been good friends of Y/N since they met, and if it weren’t for Kaz, they’d probably be the most protective of her.

“Oh come on, you’re the hottest one here,” Flynn said, “Surely you’ve shacked up with the other boys before, yeah?”. Y/N pursed her lips, “I think you hurt Anika’s feelings.” She ignored his other comment. Then Flynn did something no one was expecting: he rested a hand dangerously high on Y/N’s leg. Her cold eyes snapped to his smirking face. That did it. Rotty shoved Flynn off of her and swung. There was a definite crunch.

Riker being an idiot lunged at Rotty landing a solid hit before Specht launched himself into the fight. Everyone’s attention turned on the fight and a few of the younger members joined in trying to back up Riker and Flynn. Y/N somehow got shoved over as more people started taking sides. What the hell was happening in here? She huffed to herself before trying to tear Flynn off of Rotty. He turned and swung not realizing who was. Y/N took a hit to her eye and felt a little blood run down the side of her face.

His face drained and said, “Oh. Darling I am so sorry.” Darling? All the voices of the horrible men rang out in her head for a moment. Y/N glared at him before pulling her arm back and breaking his nose. She then kneed him in the crotch and managed to wrestle him to the ground. Everyone was practically fighting on top of each other. Y/N’s anger flared as she shoved him harder into the wooden floor and scraped his face to make sure some splinters would come up. “You ever lay your hands on me again and I will break both of your arms,” Y/N hissed in his ear digging her need further into his neck. “You crazy bitch!” He screamed in pain.

“You have no idea--” Y/N started, but a loud shot went off and everyone fell silent. “What the hell is going on here?” Kaz growled on the balcony holding a pistol in one hand and his cane in the other. I close my door for one second and this whole damn place falls apart. His eyes were darker than night, and when his eyes landed on Y/N’s partially swollen face his eyes somehow went darker. He was beyond furious. “Well?” He snapped as everyone stayed frozen where they were still holding on to their opponents. Unfortunately, Flynn had been the one to decide to open his mouth, “This psycho,” he gestured under Y/N to Rotty, “Attacked me!” “Yeah well why don’t you keep your hands to yourself then you filthy little perv,” Rotty bit back.

“All I did was flirt a bit with her! Like everyone else does!” Y/N dug Flynn’s face harder into the floor and jabbed him with her knee again. “There’s a difference between having a conversation with someone, flirting, and then trying to feel them up,” She hissed at the boy. She could feel Kaz’s hard stare on her as she seemed to be in the center of a circle now.

Y/N twisted his arm tighter and dug her nails into his skin. Flynn cried out in pain and his eyes went to Kaz. He stood there with narrowed eyes. After a bad childhood, Y/N had always been wary of a man’s touch. Much like Inej, she was picked up and taken to the Menagerie for a majority of her childhood on top of being raised by an abusive father with brothers who seemed to follow in their father’s footsteps. Kaz of course was the only one who knew about this, but Specht and Rotty had a faint idea of what happened after they found her in a closet puking her guts out, pale as a ghost after a job went awry with a nasty man who had a taste for young pretty girls.

“Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” Flynn begged Kaz. Kaz looked at the picture in front of him. Y/N was dangerous right now. He knew the boy laid a hand on her as soon as he came out of the office to see her practically smothering him. She always had that look in her eye that told Kaz when someone stepped out of line. He was screaming inside to just go and strangle the kid for laying a single finger on his girl, but he didn’t need to lose anymore newbies. They were useful for mediocre jobs that Kaz didn’t need to do himself.

Kaz pushed off of the railing and began making his way down to the main floor. “Y/N,” he said calmly, “Up you go.” She glared at Kaz but said nothing, releasing her grip on Flynn. The boy stood up and rolled his shoulders as everyone began picking things back up. Kaz didn’t even have to say anything and they all started cleaning up the mess they made. Rotty and Specht flanked Y/N’s sides as soon as she stood up. Flynn and Riker were still in between them and an approaching Kaz.

“Thank you,” Flynn scowled at Y/N. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He went on, “You’re crazy, bitch. Now I get why you didn’t acknowledge my other comment earlier,” Flynn spat, “No one would ever want to sleep with you, I mean they’d have to--” Kaz’s cane collided with the back of Flynn’s leg causing him to collapse. “Finish that sentence and I’ll let Y/N break more than just your arms,” Kaz growled quietly. He never shouted which made him more dangerous.

But Flynn ignored the pain and smirked again at Y/N. That did it. Y/N grabbed the two daggers in her belt and flipped them up before lunging at the boy. She didn’t care if she was going to kill him. Kaz wouldn’t kick her out of the gang and if he did then screw him too. Y/N knew boys like this. They’d only grow up to be monsters.

Rotty and Specht tried getting in her way because even if they didn’t like this kid, they weren’t going to let Y/N kill anyone in the gang. She easily slipped out of their arms hitting them hard in the face causing them to double over in pain. Just as she was about to slit the kid’s throat, strong arms grabbed her. She felt cool leather hands on her bare arms and a body blocking hers from the cowering boy on the floor. Just how it should be, she thought maliciously. “Let me go!” Y/N snapped, struggling to get to Flynn.

“No,” Kaz said calmly. “Get him out of here,” Kaz ordered Specht and Rotty. Y/N struggled harder against Kaz.

“You can’t just let him go! I will hunt you down and kill you!”

“No you won’t,” Kaz said coolly in her ear, but she ignored his comment.

“I will kill you if I ever see your face here again!” Y/N screamed after the boy that was being dragged out. “C’mon,” he muttered half dragging Y/N up to his room. He was considerably out of breath by the time they reached the top.

Kaz threw her in the room and stood in between her and the door. He knew she was heavily triggered by her past so he let her scream, shout, chew him out. Whatever she needed. “You’re letting him walk? You? Of all people?” She yelled, “You shouldn’t have done that! I know boys like that! They all turn out the same. Disgusting rats who find it fun to take advantage of young, helpless girls!” She hissed. Kaz watched silently observing all of her features. Even as angry as she was with him and beaten up, Kaz seemed to find Y/N even more beautiful. Practically glowing he thought to himself.

“Are you done?” he asked. Y/N stopped pacing and glared daggers at him. Yet, she let out a breath and nodded. The tunnel of red she saw was slowly fading and she came to her senses. It was simply just her and Kaz in the peace and quiet of his room. He looked at her before his gaze softened a bit. He wanted so badly to brush his bare hands across her face, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. She was intoxicating to him, and he had been slowly working on skin to skin contact with her whenever it was just them. She knew about his brother and she knew how it felt to drown.

It was so easy for her to slip back into her rage and terror over a simple gesture of affection, and Kaz didn’t want to be the one that caused her to act like this. “What happened?” He asked calmly, peeling his gloves off. Y/N caught the movement and stared at his slender hands refusing to let her fascination with them get in the way of her still bubbling rage.

“That little boy thought it would be fun to get a reward for shaking up that guy who owed you money,” Y/N scowled. “And that reward being you?” Kaz quirked a brow. “Yeah,” she spit. “How are you so calm over this?” she growled a moment later. Usually he was more worked up about this and deep down it stung that he didn’t seem to care about her well-being right now. Of course she had no right to care about what he thinks of her. He’s not your boyfriend she scolded herself waiting for his response.

Kaz eyed her for a moment and sighed, “You can take care of yourself.” That wasn’t the answer she was really expecting, but what was it she wanted him to say? He approached her slowly, never taking his eyes off of hers. Y/N stood still, her heart skipping a beat as he stopped in front of her. She saw him take a breath before allowing his hand to brush up against hers. The pain in his eyes over the smallest touch made Y/N pull away. She didn’t want to put him through this. He didn’t owe her anything. “Wait,” He said when she moved her hand.

Kaz’s warm fingers grazed hers before he ran them up her wrist. Any left over anger had subsided as a chill ran down her spine. His dark eyes studied her face and he noticed how her eye now had a purplish tint starting to form, and then he saw where her perfect skin had split and a little blood ran down the side of her face. Kaz gritted his teeth, allowing his temper to begin to rise. In all honesty, he didn’t really know what to think when he saw Y/N on top of the boy digging his skull into the floor. And even worse, for a fleeting moment Kaz had wished it was he who was under her under different circumstances. But he quickly pushed aside any thoughts that weren’t relevant to the event of her killing one of the Dregs in front of everyone.

After a moment, Kaz slowly moved his hand to her face running his fingers lightly across the cut. He allowed his hand to trail down her face as she watched him trace her features. Eventually, his hand fell back next to hers as he allowed himself to intertwine it with her own small hand. Y/N watched as he took a moment to collect himself. She waited for his outburst, but it never came. It was always like this with them. The seclusion of his room, unspoken words that needed to be said, and the smallest touches that left both of them with a burning sensation.

Kaz was getting better at this. After the whole heist and everything, he was getting better with physical contact, but it was still a struggle for him. Even if it was Y/N. He longed to be able to run his hands through her hair, kiss her skin, and just be able to touch her. But somehow, Jordie seemed to slip in his mind as soon as he’d lay a finger on her.

“No one is allowed to lay a hand on you” Kaz murmured partially to himself. She was his and he preferably didn’t want to share. Those nasty little rats, he scowled.

“What is this?” Y/N blurted out softly. Kaz gave her a confused look as the sound of her voice caught him off guard. She even surprised herself. “I mean,” she started with a shaky breath, “What are we?” she finally asked. Kaz looked at her and saw the frightened girl he picked up off the streets as she had escaped the Menagerie. He thought for a moment. What were they? Kaz wondered the same thing. “I-I don’t know,” he said watching her face slightly fall. “But,” he started again, “It doesn’t mean we can’t be something,” he concluded. It was true, he had always wanted to be with her, but he knew she’d have to be patient with him, and he’d have to be patient with her. Kaz couldn’t tell her he would spoil her and shower her with hugs and kisses and gifts because he physically couldn’t. He didn’t want to do that to her and even if he could get over his fear, he didn’t want to push her either.

“It’s hard for me too you know,” she spoke again pulling him from his thoughts. He knew, but he let her talk anyways. “They beat me,” her voice wavered, “and left me in the freezing rain. They laughed at me--” “Don’t, Y/N just don’t,” Kaz stopped her. She didn’t need to explain herself and why she wanted to kill that boy. “You’re safe with me,” Kaz said more firmly now. And hesitantly he did something he didn’t expect himself to do. He pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her. Y/N froze not knowing if she should hug him back. Timidly, she wrapped her arms around him and the two stood there in silence. Everything inside Kaz screamed at him and the bile rose in his throat, but he forced it away the best he could. She needed him right now even if he felt like he was drowning.

“Kaz,” Y/N mumbled, pulling him up from the cool water that he was slipping under. She could sense his uncomfort and knew it was time to let go. She unwrapped her arms from around him and slowly untangled herself from his body. Surprisingly, he missed the warmth her body brought, but he was also grateful she stepped back and gave him some space. A small smile played at her lips as he stepped back and put his gloves back on. “C’mon,” he spoke softly offering his now covered hand to her. Y/N took it with ease. It doesn’t mean we can’t be something played over in her mind. She was as happy as she could possibly be even if it would take time. She would wait and she knew it would take time not only for him but for her as well. Y/N was just happy Kaz was officially hers in some way, and she got the feeling he was content with that too. Although, she didn’t know she had always been his in his own mind.

They made their way back down to the landing above the Crows. For the most part, the room had been picked up but everyone was still cleaning the mess up. Specht and Rotty had returned with a very bruised Flynn helping pick up broken tables and chairs. As soon as Kaz and Y/N made it on the landing, everyone could sense their presence. All heads turned to them.

“The tables and chairs all better be replaced by tomorrow morning,” Kaz’s hard stare was back. “I didn’t fix this place up with my own money for a bunch of idiots to go and destroy it all.” Y/N stood closely next to Kaz, her eyes narrowed as she was watching the crowd. “And no one lays a hand on Y/N anymore,” he hissed. “If I ever catch any of you with your filthy hands on her, insulting her, or even looking at her without a single ounce of respect, I will break more than just your face.” That was a bit much, Kaz she thought to herself but smirked a little at how much he was actually riled about this.

“Got it?” he snapped. The crowd nodded and gave a terrified “yes” as he glared down on them with his usual Kaz face. Y/N scanned the gang below and found most of the young ones refusing to look at her and Kaz. Flynn was looking anywhere but her. “Did you get that?” she snarled at the newbies. “Flynn?” she spat. All eyes snapped to hers as her anger seemed to be returning. “Yes,” he mumbled along with the others before diverting his eyes. “Back to work,” Kaz snapped, and just like he pushed an unfreeze button, everyone jumped back to picking up damaged pieces.

Flynn, Riker, and a few others decided to head out and find more chairs and tables. When their backs were turned and they were walking out, a very sharp dagger whizzed by Flynn’s ear and hit the wall an inch away from where he put his hand. Everyone jumped at the thump and he turned, wide-eyed back to the landing. Y/N stood there with Kaz behind her. “Next time he won’t stop me from killing you,” she threatened. Flynn and the others recoiled in fear and simply nodded. “Off you go then,” she dismissed them.

Specht and Rotty watched as Kaz stepped aside and let Y/N go up the steps first and saw his hand hover the small of her back as they disappeared back upstairs. “All hail the king and queen,” they joked and went on with their cleaning.

_____________________________________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this and again please send feed back! Request away my darlings! xoxo

#imagines #fandom imagines #six of crows #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #six of crows imagines #kaz brekker fic #trulivin #multifandom imagines #grishaverse #grisha #crooked kingdom

978 notes · View notes

p-artsypants · 3 years

Text

I’ll Handle This (13)

In Which There’s Cheese

Ao3 | FF.net

Trigger or Squick warning: Man has done some messed up stuff in the pursuit of perfect cheese. And what is cheese but moldy, rotten milk? This chapter contains some very foul and nasty descriptions of actual cheese that people eat. So if eating rotting food makes you uncomfortable, best skip to the end of this chapter.

(Spoiler: Plagg gives Lila really gross cheese. She eats it, and has to run out of the room to vomit.)

“—so the best way to level up is to get a skill up to 100, and then legendary it back down to 15, so then you can use the skill perks on another ability that’s harder to level up. That’s where I’m at right now. I’m on level 106 and trying to fill up all my skill trees by using smithing, speech, enchanting, lock picking, and blocking.”

Day three of Lila’s torment, and there was presumably no end in sight.

Had she known from the beginning that Adrien Agreste was this big of a nerd and completely socially inept, she wouldn’t have talked to him at all.

Funny how people looked less attractive the more annoying they got.

And she had tried. She had sincerely tried to get him to shut up. She told him, “I’m sorry Adrien, I’m just not that interested in this video game.”

“Well, you’ve just never played it before! You should come over this weekend—no, actually, I think we should go to your place. When you aren’t grounded anymore. Your mom seemed to really like me!”

Of course she did. Her mother likes anyone who’s a ‘good influence’ on her precious baby. And nothing like Paris’ golden boy to fill that bubble.

Her mom probably preferred that Adrien was so naïve and oblivious.

The bell rang for lunch, and Lila was up and out of her seat without another word. She was tired of the games. Skyrim, Magic: The Gathering, and trying to salvage a friendship with the dumb blond. But Adrien usually ate lunch at home or with Marinette, at least he had been, so lunch was her time to recharge! She’d take her place in the throne room that was the cafeteria and have everyone’s attention. With an hour of that, she could certainly put up with whatever Adrien had to tell her the next half of the day.

In the cafeteria, most seats were taken. The two open seats were at a table with Alya, Nino, and Marinette. Of course Lila wasn’t thrilled with Marinette, but she’d leave eventually, and someone else would hear her tales and come to sit with them.

“Hey guys! Do you mind if I sit with you?” Lila smiled, all friendly-like.

“Not at all, Lila, take a seat!” Alya welcomed.

Marinette and Nino kept their poker faces as she sat down.

“So Alya, I had this amazing idea for an article for the Ladyblog, and I bet I could get some quotes from Ladybug for it too.”

“Or really?” Alya squealed. “That would be amazing! So what’s the idea?”

“Basically—“

“WHO WANTS SOME CHEESE?!” Plagg sang as he took his spot in the last remaining seat, right next to Lila.

She wanted to die.

“Cheese?” Said Nino, intrigued.

“Yeah! I have been dying to give you guys a cheese tasting, and wouldn’t you know it? All my best buds are all together! So it’s perfect!”

Lila cautiously relaxed. Cheese tastings were just as fancy as wine tastings. Maybe this would be a break and a peek into Adrien’s refinement. She could handle this.

“Okay, so for you three,” Plagg gestured to Nino, Alya, and Marinette, “I have some more...beginner cheeses. They’re still extremely tasty, but more mild for a less refined palette.”

“You calling me unrefined?” Nino glared.

“I see what you eat. And yes.”

“Touché.”

“And for you, Lila, you mentioned that two weeks ago, you had dinner with Wolfgang Puck himself. I assumed you could handle more advanced cheeses.”

Advanced cheeses? “Oh, well, yes of course. I’ve done a few cheese tastings before. Maybe not with the same quality of cheeses as you have...”

“Then this will be a walk in the park.” He unzipped the lunchbox he had brought with him, and handed out three orange cubes to the ‘beginners’. “Alright, so first, we have a whiskey cheddar. Whiskey is fermented in oak barrels that can only be used once. So they’re sold to beer, coffee, and cheese makers. The cheese is stored in the barrels and the remnants of the whiskey seep in and give it almost a spicy flavor.”

They all took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, humming in content.

“Oh wow, I think I can taste the whiskey! That’s really good!”

“I’d put this on crackers and eat a whole box! This is really good!”

“I’m not a huge fan of cheddar,” stated Marinette, “but maybe I just haven’t been trying the right stuff, because this is awesome!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Plagg beamed. “And for Lila,” he opened a container and a smell emanated immediately. It smelled like rotten armpit. “This is finely aged Limburger, aged to three months. It’s imperative that you take in the scent of the cheese first, before eating it. Don’t waft it, just breathe it in.”

Lila took the offered container, sparing it a withering glance before she inhaled.

If her face could have melted off, it would have.

“It…smells like rotten feet.”

“Ah yes, Brevibacterium linens. This is a smear-washed cheese that gets a fresh coating of bacteria that prevents mold and helps the maturing process. As a food connoisseur, you’re getting the peak time of maturity. I usually let it mature longer than this still, so it gets really runny, like camembert~…” At the very name, Plagg moaned in a way that was inappropriate for young ears. He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I got swept away in the moment. Oh right! Limburger, you eat it with your nose. Take another whiff!”

“I’m good.”

“Another whiff I say!”

Lila inhaled, and her whole body shuddered.

“Perfect. Now you can eat it.”

She popped the sample in her mouth, and swallowed quickly, shuddering the whole time.

“Good?”

“Hmm mmm…”

“Oh! I forgot to mention, the bacteria that that cheese is smeared with is the same that grows on your feet, that’s what makes the cheese stink!”

Lila made a face of disgust and turned a little green.

“Great! Round two!” He placed little samples in front of the other three first. “Okay, so this is a little more advanced. This is scamorza, which is much like Mozzarella, but it has a distinct smokey flavor. I think it tastes kind of like wood fired pizza.”

“It does!” Nino cried, savoring each little nibble. “Oh my god this is so good!”

Alya took a bit of tomato out of her sandwich and ate that with the cheese. “Oh, that is just like wood fired pizza. I’d love to try this warm! You have to get more of this!”

Plagg grinned. “And you, Marinette?”

Marinette was still chewing, and just nodded with closed eyes and a contented sigh.

“Awesome! I personally think scamorza is too mild, but it’s still very good. So for Lila I have another advanced taste.” He took out another sealed container and popped the lid. The smell wasn’t as brutal as the Limburger, but it was still potent. “This is Casu Marzu, a Sardinian delicacy. So it should sound familiar to you, since you’re from Italy and all. It’s made from sheep’s milk. Oh! And it’s illegal, so this sample is from a ‘friend’ who will not be named.”

Lila held the container a little away from her face and peered at it with hesitation. Her lip curled up in disgust, before she gave Plagg an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Adrien. It looks like this cheese has gone bad.” And she pushed the container back towards him.

He looked in it. “It looks fine to me. They’re alive. That’s a good thing.”

“Adrien, those are maggots.”

“Cheese fly maggots, to be exact,” he corrected. “They’re introduced to the cheese to help break down the fat in the milk.” He pushed the container back in front of her. “I mean, it’s not any more gross than escargot, or caviar, or grasshopper, or tequila worms, you know?”

She looked back at the worms, her lip trembling. “This is a delicacy?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t bring bad cheese in for a laugh.” He took out a spoon and scooped out a little cheese, worms and all, and spread it on a piece of flatbread. Then he ate it. “Ohhh that’s good!”

“I…” She cast one more look at the container and confessed, “I’m sorry Adrien. I just can’t do it. It’s too gross for me.”

“Oh,” said Plagg, with genuine sadness in his voice. “Okay I guess...anyone else want to try?”

Marinette, who was always looking for a chance to show up Lila, offered up, “I’ll give it a try.”

Plagg’s eyes widened with glee. “You will?!”

“Sure. Even if it’s gross, I can say I tried it. Not everyday you get to eat illegal cheese. And you ate some, afterall.”

“Yes! I promise it’ll be worth it! You just have to thoroughly chew it to kill the maggots.”

Marinette scrunched up her nose. “Can I...kind of eat around the worms?”

“You can try.”

So to Marinette’s credit, she did eat some of the cheese, though it was picked through, and she scraped what she could off with a knife. Then she spread a little on a larger piece of bread, more bread than cheese obviously, then chewed her sample thoroughly.

“Well?” Asked Plagg, bouncing in his seat. “I think it’s kind of like Camembert and Gorgonzola had a baby. A rotten, decaying baby.”

“Mmm hmmm.” Marinette nodded, her lips shut tight. Once she swallowed, she downed a huge swig of her water, swishing around in her mouth first.

“That bad, huh?” Asked Alya.

“No no, it actually tasted really really good. And I couldn’t feel the worms or anything. I just couldn’t get over the idea that they were there. You know?”

“It’s scary!” Plagg assured. “I know it freaked me out when I was a kid, but if it wasn’t worth it, they wouldn’t make it!”

“You’re wicked brave, Marinette.” Nino patted her on the back.

She chuckled. “Alright. Do you have any more samples so I can cleanse my palette?”

“Oh yep! Last round!” He set out three more samples. “So this is Cantal. It’s from Cantal, France, obviously. And it’s often thought of as a dessert cheese, as it’s got a sort of spicy sweet taste, or like hazelnuts. Oh, and you’ll want to eat it with these apple slices. This is a young wheel, only two months old.”

Contented hums filled the air as the three munched on the sweet, buttery, fruity delight.

Plagg felt extremely pleased that he convinced Adrien’s friends to eat cheese. And he was especially proud of Marinette for eating the best, most amazing cheese of all time. If casu marzu wasn’t an absolute pain to get ahold of, and if it were more portable, he’d demand Adrien to get him that instead of Camembert.

But, as it was, they had to go with more convenient cheeses.

“I think I’m all cheesed out...” said Lila.

“Dude, you only actually had one sample. You can’t bow out now!”

At this point, especially after the maggots, a small crowd had assembled around the table to observe the tasting. And if anyone would cave under peer pressure, it was Lila.

“Well, I suppose I could try one more...”

“Perfect! Because this last sample is really special!” He placed the little white flecked square in front of her. “This is my take on pepper jack cheese.”

“Wait, you made this?” She asked.

“Yep! I figured that if I love eating cheese so much, I should make my own!”

“So what’s it made of?” Lila asked, hesitant.

“You have to guess! I want to see if you can guess the milk and the pepper. It’s part cow milk, obviously, but I wanted a different flavor that you don’t get with most semi hard cheeses.”

“And there’s no bugs in it?”

Plagg laughed. “Nope, no bugs!”

Feeling a bit better, Lila brought the sample up to her mouth. The smell was subtle, a little spicy, a little milky. Not at all like the last two.

She bit the sample in half, and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s...kind of sweet...but the spice is...” she blinked a few times, her face turning red and eyes watering. “It’s hot. It’s really hot!” She ate the other half, and then regretted it. “Ugh! I shouldn’t have done that!” She swallowed and downed her little carton of milk, but the heat wouldn’t leave. It kept getting worse and worse!

“What did you put in there?! What was that?!”

Plagg looked confused. “It’s really that spicy?”

“My mouth hurts!! It hurts to talk!”

“All it is is Carolina Reaper and Breast Milk.”

Lila was up and out like a bolt, running to the bathroom to hurl.

Marinette likewise, had to leave the room, as her uproarious laughing at Lila’s suffering would have looked really bad.

—

(If you were looking for the cheese free section of the chapter, this is it!)

Lila didn’t return to class immediately. In fact, it was two periods later when she finally returned. Her face was flushed and her eyes bloodshot, and she had a wet spot on her shirt. Before everyone settled in, she claimed Adrien’s old seat, right up front.

“Sorry,” she croaked, her voice hoarse after retching so much. “Vomiting usually exacerbates my tinnitus. I hope you don’t mind if I sit up front, Adrien.”

Nino answered, “oh dude, you can have my spot. That way you and Adrien can still sit together!”

Lila’s eyes widened slightly in horror, but before she could protest, Alya slid into the spare seat. She was unfortunately not in on the plan, and was picking up all the blatant body language Plagg was ignoring. “I think Lila needs a little girl time, after her rough lunchtime experience.”

Marinette silently scooted over into Alya’s spot, so that Plagg could sit right behind Lila. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. Nino gave them both a silent thumbs up and took the open spot in the back of the room.

Lila let out a sigh of relief.

“You okay, girl?” Alya asked.

“Yeah.” She said shortly. Lila was done with the day. She would have gone home if she thought her mom would believe the cheese story, but as it was, she was already in hot water. She just needed to make it through the last two periods, and she’d be okay. Maybe she could convince her mom that she was sick and stay home tomorrow? I would be worth a try. She just needed some time away from Adrien. He was much too much.

As if reading her mind, Plagg leaned forward in his seat and spoke softly to her. “So I wanted to tell you about Stalhrim. It’s a material they added in the DLC, and you can learn how to craft with it, but it’s triggered by a quest. The first time I played the game, the person who was supposed to give the quest was killed by a lurker. Hold on, let me backup, so there are these huge monoliths call Standing Stones, and they all give you special abilities, like the Steed Stone let’s you carry things and the Apprentice Stone lets you learn magic quicker—“

As he talked, Lila’s fingers curled into the surface of the desk. His words didn’t even make any sense anymore, it was just this droning sound that wouldn’t stop.

“So in the DLC, the stones are totally different, right? And there’s this bad dude named Miraack and he’s also a Dragonborn. You remember what a Dragonborn is, right? Except this one is bad and he’s brainwashing the people on the island of Solstheim. Oh right, the whole DLC takes place on a separate island—“

The whole two weeks had been a camel. And each little rant or pushed boundary Adrien forced was another piece of straw piling up. Just then, it was like that fragile spine snapped, and something in Lila went from ‘playing the long game’ to ‘MURDER’.

“SHUT UP!” Lila screamed, pounding her fists on the table. “OH MY GOD JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!” She stood and whirled around to glare at him. “Adrien, you are the single most obnoxious person I have ever met! You just don’t know when to shut up! Are you dense? Are you retarded? How can you not see that I literally cannot give a flying eff about anything you say?! I was trying to be your friend because I thought it would be an easy way to fame. Then I felt sorry for you because of how awkward you are. Now? It’s not worth it. It’s not worth pretending to think you’re interesting when you aren’t. It’s not worth trying to ease back and deal with everyone wondering what happened. Everyone in class would wonder why we weren’t talking anymore, and I’d have to come up with more lies to get away from you, and I just don’t want to deal with that! You’re not worth it, okay? You are so selfish and annoying! Is this why your dad kept you home schooled all your life? Because he needs to lock you right back up! You are a menace!” She swung back around for a moment to gather her belongings. “I can’t even be in the same room as you anymore. I’m so done with you and your stupid rants about stupid video games! And what kind of weirdo is that obsessed with cheese?! You ate maggots for Christ sake! You’re disgusting! If you weren’t attractive, I bet your father would have regretted having you, if he hasn’t already!” She moved to the door quickly. “I’m asking to change classes, effective immediately. I suggest everyone run while you still can!” Then she caught Marinette’s eye. “Listen, I dislike you almost as much as him, but you don’t want him, Marinette. He’s an absolute freak. Look at him! He’s wearing that stupid ramen themed sweat suit! You know what? Forget it! I’m out!” And she left, slamming the door behind her.

No one had the nerve to speak after she left. It was just too big of a can of worms, no one wanted to open it.

The silence was broken by a high pitched whine, followed by a sob.

Though Marinette knew it was Plagg faking it, the sight of tears on Adrien’s face made her heart hurt.

“Oh Adrien...”

“You still like me, right Marinette?” He blubbered.

She hugged him. “Of course, Adrien. I love you.”

That seemed to be the words to break the spell and the classmates descended on him like vultures.

“You’re not annoying, Adrien!” Someone protested.

“You’re the coolest!”

“I love talking video games with you!”

“That cheese testing was really fun!”

“Who cares if you struggle with social cues? We all do! You do better than most, even for being homeschooled!”

“Lila admitted she was in the friendship for fame, her opinion doesn’t matter!”

Marinette whispered in his ear. “Nicely done, but I was not expecting that blow up.”

“Thanks, I was hoping she’d crack soon. That was just as violent as I had expected of her.”

“You okay? Those look like genuine tears.”

Plagg wiped his face as the rest of the class started to back off. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “Just hurts to hear someone be so cruel to my kitten.”

He glanced at the ring, hoping to see the final pad gone, and the one minute wait to switch back initiated.

But alas, no. The third pad was still there.

Lila wasn’t finished yet.

#miraculous ladybug #I'll handle this #fanfiction #adrien and plagg #plagg #adrien agreste #adrienette #ml #chat noir

32 notes · View notes

changeling-droneco · 3 years

Note

Here is me, ready to talk about a idea of scribe Luke i had sometime ago to someone who had almost the same idea:

So! Everything in your idea is good, but i was thinking that maybe the woodcarver or the mycologists could be the mini bosses instead of ouroboros (the lonely wizard has all rights to stay, and the bone lord too)

Why, you ask? Because they kinda Don't are in any pf the scribes side. Sure, they appeared in phase 1 with leshy, but as helpers instead of bosses

And Luke also helped the mycologists in phase 2 and 3 when giving the cards and fighting them, so i think it would be neat to them to pay this deabt helping being the bosses

That could definitely be really cool! Though personally I feel like the woodcarver just wouldn’t want to be involved she seems pretty uninterested, and I’m sure with lots of new cards the mycologist would be perfectly happy continuing their research though maybe having a bit of a soft spot. This isn’t to say they couldn’t work in fact I think those two(three? Does the mycologist count as two people?) as bosses for Luke could be really cool! But as each scrybe only gets three I personally prefer my three choices. Admittedly the ouroborous was me pretty much scraping the barrel for a third scrybe but honestly the idea of one of his most trusty cards that followed him through all three worlds becoming a boss has grown on me a lot.

So while I personally won’t be using those two for that purpose; I’d love to hear more of your own ideas about the Luke becomes Scrybe au! Lots of people are making one and it’s really fun to read how lots of different people approach an au. If your version has those two as minibosses then that’s cool as shit and I’d love to hear more!

#inscryption spoilers #luke carder #fifth scrybe luke #inscryption #this has been three am thoughts

12 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 4 years

Text

Video calls and confessions

Part 2

Rated Explicit (18+)

Got around to that part teo for this one shot.

Hellboy/Cam!Girl

____________________

The world going to shit wasn’t exactly how’d you planned out your Friday afternoon. This morning you had woken up with enthusiasm and a desire to treat yourself.

You’d gone out to the city, had your nails done, grabbed an obscenely priced coffee and on your way had stumbled on a museum.

A little culture never hurt nobody.

For Christ sake it was a free entry day too.

So why then, as you admired priceless art and sculptures had literal hell descended upon the evening?

Creatures. Actual monsters. The screams of the public deafening.

That had happened about half an hour ago. In your haste you had thanked you fight or flight mode to quick into flight. The shaking in your body had cause you to run into one of the exhibit rooms most cluttered with random ‘junk’ whatever this art installation had gone for it was surely not for somebody to duck behind for safety.

You checked your phone. The news was reporting the attack of the art museum. Authorities had been sent as well as the B.P.R.D...

That made you pause and clutch your phone.

If the bureau was on its way then that meant Hellboy was too.

The very notion of possibly seeing him in the flesh made your heart skip a few beats. The two of you had been communicating on and off for a while now since the private shows had started. You knew mixing work and pleasure wasn’t smart but fuck, you had it bad for this guy.

There was a sense of relief washing over you. He’d be here, he’d take care of this mess. Maybe you’d finally see him and not through a computer screen. You knew things had escalated with him although neither of you had really properly addressed it.

“Please whatever is up there, if I survive this I’m fucking telling him I’m in love with him” You whispered to yourself. This possibly couldn’t be your last day on earth.

Something screeching and something akin to a human scream startled you. You hugged your knees closer and tried not to breath loudly. Gunshots and more screams could be heard.

Then something came crashing into the installation where you were hiding. Your scream was imposible to hold in. The creature was screeching so loudly, a sound that left your ears ringing.

Adrenaline made you run out as fast as you humanly could. You heard the great strides it took to catch up to you. This was it wasn’t it? You were gonna die?

Your legs kept pushing you forward even as your muscles burned with pain. Your eyes hurt from crying and your throat felt like it was sandpaper. Something like a claw reaching for your hair made you close your eyes. There was no way you wanted to see how this ended for you.

Two shots.

Loud and so very clear, the sound coming out of left field made you trip and fall. The screening fortunately had stopped.

“Miss?! You’re safe! Hey! You gotta get out of here now!” That voice you knew all to well. You looked up and saw red and a stone hand.

“R-red...” Your voice was small, a sob catching in your throat.

“Y/N!?” He was shocked, eyes wide as he knelt in front of you.

You weren’t sure how your body moved or if he moved you but somehow you’d ended up with your arms around him sobbing into his neck. Hellboy held you tightly, whispering that you were safe, an array of cusses slipped out as he breathed heavily.

The knowledge that you were here, if he’d been a millisecond too late, all crashed down on him as he picked you up and carried you to safety.

You could’ve died, was all that ran through his head.

You’re alive, was all that ran through yours.

_______________

One helicopter ride, a medical exam and a shower later you found yourself at the home base of the B.P.R.D. A nice young woman by the name of Alice had loaned you some clothes and had taken you to Hellboy’s room to wait. A debriefing was happening and all you could do was sit tight.

You resolved to canceling all your cam shows for the week stating you had fallen terribly ill. There was no way you could work, your hands were still shaking as you typed out the post and notified your one on one shows. It felt like hours as you sat on the couch, you had looked around at his room, seeing and array of personal items that made up his personality.

Such a big part of you often dreamt about this but your nerves had you glued to your spot.

The door opened and Hellboy came barreling in like a tornado. You flinched and bit too hard on your already chewed off nail, so much for that manicure.

“I’m so sorry, I wanted to leave that stupid meeting but it’s fucking mandatory because Daimio thinks it’s necessary, asshole that guy I tell ya-“ He took in your state, the still slight tremble in your hands, the few scrapes here and there. You looked small and scared and it absolutely destroyed him.

In his silence he made his way towards the coffee table and sat in front of you. “You know I often fantasized what it be like to see you in the flesh, this wasn’t how it usually went I promise” He smiled and for the first time in this piss filled day, so did you.

“How would it go?” You asked softly.

“Some mood light, a little wine maybe some music” The two of you chuckled. Your chuckles quickly dissolved in you trying to hold back your tears.

You were almost killed tonight, the shock would take some time to subside. “Hey hey kid, it’s ok, I’ve got you. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you on my watch” Hellboy’s flesh hand rested on your knees.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his shoulder. “...When I read you guys were sent out, I really got excited that I’d finally see you” You felt his flesh hand stroke your hair.

“I’m in love with you” You blurted out, his hand going to still. “I said, if I’m making it out of this alive I’m telling him, so I’m telling you...” You looked up at him, e/c meeting his golden ones.

“I-Im not dancing around this no more, I’m tired of pretending that what’s been going on isn’t just some work thing that I do, fuck, I love you I really do and I think you do too” Your mouth want dry again, the scratchy sensation making you swallow.

Hellboy searched out your eyes, something in his head was going a mile a minute. Was he searching for a lie? Something disingenuous?

That all died when he lunged forward and kissed you.

A kiss that truly and utterly left no worry.

You were kissing Hellboy. You were gripping Hellboy by the scruff of his shirt. The way his lips molded against yours, the abnormal warmth to them, the softness to them, the roughness of his scruff.

Pulling back for air felt obligated but he’d insisted by pressing the stumps of his horns against your forehead. “Wow...that’s...so much better than I could’ve imagined” He was star struck in a way and it honest to god made you laugh.

The days events took a back seat for now you wanted to take in the being before you. You scanned everything you normally did while on cam with him. Your hands explored his face, running across scars and hair.

Then you remembered what lay to his right and your heart raced.

You gripped his stone hand, fascinated by the texture of stone, how he held your hand with so much regard to his strength. The patterns, the markings everything has you entranced.

“Extraordinary” Was all you could muster as you rubbed on what would be the inside f his wrist. “I’m sorry, is this weirding you out?” You looked at Hellboy only to find him grinning. “Having a beautiful girl touch me? Yes it’s completely weirding me out” He mocked and you couldn’t help but playfully shove him.

“God I need a beer, can we...?” He was leaning over toward the mini fridge next to the couch and pulling said drinks out. “Read my mind, beautiful” He offered one towards you.

This morning you were going about a normal routine, and now after a near death experience you were in the room of a man you had been falling in love with for months. The twist and turns of life.

Around round 3 you’d excused yourself to use the bathroom. As you washed your hands and saw your normal pristine face a little worn down from the stressful events you frowned.

But there you stood in Hellboy’s bathroom. Surrounded by things all him. The tips of your fingers ran through a brush of his. This was a reality right now.

You stepped out and caught him shrugging off his coat. Busying your thumbnail again at your teeth you watched his now visible arms flex with the movements.

“All good?” He smiled leaning against the dresser.

There was a pregnant pause in which the two of you merely just ogled one another from across the bed.

You moved first.

You walked over the bed and stood on it, you reached out a hand that he took without hesitation and with the extra height from the bed you met in a heated kiss face to face. You wrapped your arms around his neck, you felt his around your hips.

In a wordless haste you yanked at his black T-shirt and busied yourself with taking off yours. He watched mesmerized, as always, the revealing of your skin.

The image before you though, god you wanted to scream.

Hellboy undoing his belt and swiftly yanking the whole thing out of the belt loops without breaking eye contact. Off were your pants, and on was him as he took you down on the bed.

It was a haze, breathless kisses and chants of desire. He one handed the button of your jeans and his own. The brief separation to take the offending items off had the two of you giggling almost. In record time he was back on you and you welcomed it with a ferocity to your kisses. Tongue slipping into his mouth, you swallowed a groan of his that vibrated all the way to your cunt.

He was here, you were here. Physically.

You grinned as he trailed kisses over both your covered breast. “Take-fuck-take it off please, now right now” You felt the air leave your lungs when he simply broke the bra in half and met his reward, two beautifully round breasts he had craved more than any meal. Hellboy pressed his face between them and inhaled before leaving a series of bites and marks. Each time he bit down your raised your hips in search of friction.

The heaviness in the air, the warmth of him lapping and sucking at your breast. The heated tongue wrapping around a nipple. Hellboy devoured you, and if your breast had him like this...

“Baby please, wanna touch you too” Your hands ran down his back, sharp nails leaving a path. Hellboy shuddered as he left a nipple with a loud pop. “Go on, I’m all yours” That very comment sent a gush of heat and you bit your lip to hold a moan in.

You nudged him to lay on his back and you climbed on top of him. Hands running over your body, the feeling of that stone hand gently cupping your rear was enough to make you grind down on him with purpose.

“I promised you something every time we spoke, you remember what that was?” You rubbed yourself on him as you began to trail down his body. Hellboy’s eyes were fogged with lust. “Oh, you remember” You kissed his stomach, nails scratching his sides before hooking into the waistband of his underwear.

He was going to have a stroke.

Hellboy watched you slide his underwear down. Eyes hungry and mouth engulfing his cock. He bucked up without meaning to but you caught most of the onslaught by closing up your throat. A minor choke and you were back on track.

Fuck he was big and thick, you did your best swallowing as much as possible before settling the rest with your hand to jerk. The gut punched groan that left him egging you on. He saw your head bob, the way your lips stretched around his length, the blissed out look as you sucked earnestly. “Shit shit, you look beautiful” Hellboy reached a left hand across your cheek.

Letting him go with a breathy inhale, spit on your chin you jerked him lazily.

He was putting this look away for a rainy day. You had no right looking so utterly debauched and perfect.

“C’mere and kiss me, beautiful” Hellboy whispered softly and you obeyed crawling on him to meet him in a sensual slow lip lock.

Underwear gone, or more so also ripped apart. You were now on top of him about to guide his cock into your drenched hole. The initial burn was actually delicious, that breach between pain and pleasure sending a delightful shock through your body. Once fully seated on him you reveled in stretch and burn. “God this is, fuck I-“ You moaned as you tested with a sway of your hips, he was hitting your spot perfectly. You rested your hands on his chest and he gripped your waist.

Hellboy was gone, the sight of you riding him, lost in your pleasure caused by him nevertheless. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever see. Lost to it all you fell forwards, burying your face in his neck. Your impending release had you stuttering your hips. “I got you baby, I got you” He muttered against your ear. You moaned as he held you, hips pistoning upwards to drive that orgasm out of you.

It crashed something fierce, running all over your body and coming out as a scream against his neck. You felt limp as a noodle but held onto him as he fucked his way through yours. When he came he yanked another orgasm out of you along with his.

The two of you laid there, a mess of limbs clutching at each other. Hearts racing, lungs trying to catch up.

Exhaustion won. You fell a sleep on Hellboy, still inside of you, his mouth against your temple.

There was no turning back now.

#hellboy #hellboy x fem!reader #hellboy x reader insert #hellboy 2019 #hellboy x reader #female reader insert #reader insert #sequel fic #n*fw

151 notes · View notes

oxhaven · 4 years

Text

Let Me Love You / hybrid!au - Jimin

The bell jingled behind you as the door closed, putting you out into the cold, rainy night. A drawled out sigh escaped past your lips as you held out the small umbrella and pushed it open hearing the small droplets hit down on it. Once again you were walking home by yourself, on your way to an empty apartment with no one to welcome you back.

You plopped your feet into puddles with every slow step, in no rush to get to an empty and dark apartment. You decided to take a break from drinking and clubbing per request of your co-worker and friend, who once again denied your offer to pay for her drinks if she came with you. You battled with yourself on wanting company or wanting to be left alone, wanting to be held and comforted. Wanting to be loved.

Or maybe declare war on men.

Your last failed relationship wasn’t something you were hung up about because of the guy, it was that you were beginning to think the problem was you. Were you that unloveable? It always goes good in the beginning and then somewhere in the middle you ignore the red flags all the way to the end where he cheats on you or tells you he’s not emotionally available. You were starting to believe that asking for romantic love was too much to ask for. No matter how much love you put into you, you shamefully wanted to share how much you loved yourself with someone else. You wanted to fall in love with someone and share worlds with. You wanted all these things, slowly losing the grasp and accepting it as something you couldn’t obtain.

You watch the traffic lights change colors for an empty street as you walk on the sidewalk path towards home. The fear of walking alone at night left you long ago when you grew used to it, seeing the difference in the amount of people there were depending if it was a weekday or weekend. No one was out to bother you, nothing but empty cars on empty streets. Empty alleyways except for the stench of trash barrels and a wet dog sitting beside-

You stopped in your tracks with your feet plopping in water and eyebrows knit together. You slowly turned your body to the side, looking back at the person sitting down in the corner of the alley. He had his knees pulled up to his chest, a jacket that stood no chance against the rain soaked against his body. You could see his bangs underneath the hoodie plastered against his forehead, the strands wet and dripping with water. It was a pitiful sight, although he didn’t seem to be shivering or whimpering for help.

You could have kept walking, acknowledging the possibilities that this guy could be a psychopath or a serial killer. Make it home without risking yourself in danger and get in your warm bed. Usually you took these things into account but for some reason none of those thoughts popped up in your head. You were only holding out your umbrella to him, shielding him from the rest of the rain as his head finally peered up with dark eyes staring into your green ones.

You could hear the rain continue to come down, you could feel the cold onslaught of it on your back as you leaned over. No matter how much you tried in that moment you couldn’t think of yourself or think of anything else except what you thought of him as a smile grew on your face.

“You’re soaked.”

You pushed your body on the door when you got it unlocked, huffing out with effort as the bottom of the door scraped on the floorboard. You reached over to the side and switched on a light, then a couple more until you got the right one dimming the hallway with light.

“Home sweet home..” you announced with a relieved breath, turning around to make sure your stranger was still behind you. He peered over your shoulder into your home until your hand on his wrist was dragging him in and closing the door behind.

“Don’t be shy! It’s warm in here and I have plenty of food. Let me just heat up a pot really quick. You like ramyun?” You dropped your bag by the coat rack after hanging up your raincoat, slipping out of your boots and ushered him to do the same. You hurried to the kitchen telling him to follow as well, going straight to your cabinets and pulling out your usual pot when you made noodles. You thanked the heavens you deep cleaned and tidied your place for this, going through a checklist in your head just to double sure you didn’t have to be embarrassed about anything. You heard his feet drag into the kitchen as you stood up, looking over your shoulder and seeing him still in his wet jacket and shoes as you tried not to grimace. You didn’t let it get to you, immediately thinking he was just shy and went to turn on the stove and fill the pot with water.

“My name’s Dahyun, what’s yours?” You introduced yourself, putting the pot on the stove before turning around and yelping out with how close he suddenly was. You didn’t get a clear look at his face with his hair in it and the hoodie still pulled over to hide it, only catching sight of his hands cupping your face.

“It can be whatever you want sweetheart.” He breathed, surprise making your body freeze over. His breath didn’t smell bad at all like you thought, and finally hearing his voice was like honey on your eardrums. You caught yourself as he was pulling your face closer to his, getting a peek at pink plush lips before you were stiffening in his hold and shaking your head.

“Woah! No! You don’t have to do that- I didn’t bring you here for that.”

He stopped his advancements and the both of you stood there as if you were on pause. You didn’t push him away, allowing his warm hands to stay on your cheek as you swallowed. “Your clothes are soaked and you’ll get sick if you stay in them.”

It took him a moment before he let you go, pulling away and stepping back as his hand came over his head. You blinked with wide eyes as he pulled back his hood, pushing his wet hair back and giving you a good look at his face.

And the floppy ears at the top of his head.

They were a deep brown, clashing with his black hair but nonetheless adorable as they twitched about trying to get water off. Before you reached out on impulse to touch them you realized that this wasn’t just a stranger you brought into your home but a hybrid, which led to other questions. Did he belong to someone? Was he a stray? Did he run away from his home?

The questions that lingered in your mind only worried you more before you shook them off when you were clear about your answer.

“You can stay here tonight. It’s warm, much better than outside.” You assured him before grabbing his wrist again and leading him to the bathroom. You readied a towel and got out an extra loofah, setting them to the side and pulling the hybrid in. “Take a nice hot shower and I’ll have some pj’s ready when you get out. With a nice hot bowl of ramyun.”

He nodded his head to you before you smiled gleefully and closed the door behind, setting out to get the noodles boiling before searching for some extra clothes. Luckily you always had oversized shirts and boxer briefs stashed away that you personally liked to wear for the comfort they brought. You pulled out the garments and hurried back to the bathroom, opening the door quietly and peeking in. He was already in the shower thankfully, setting the fresh clothes next to the towel before gathering his discarded clothes off the floor. You made quick work to throw them in the washer machine with some detergent before heading back to the kitchen and finishing the noodles for two.

He came out just as you set two piping bowls down the table, finally getting a good look at the pup you welcomed into your home. His hair was wet but this time by a shower, his body dried and in the pajamas you gave him to wear. They were just as baggy on him as they were you but he looked comfortable and clean, smelling delightful in your shampoo and body wash. You ushered him to the table, pushing his bowl towards him that had extra helpings of the noodles and kimchi. He sat down in the creaky stool chair and dug in with the chopsticks, the sound of his slurping filling the kitchen. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you watched, hurrying to pick up your own and dig in when he peeked up at you. You both ate silently, not letting the awkwardness bother you as you finished your bowls clean, leaving nothing behind. You deposited the dishes in the sink to worry about in the morning, making your way to the living room and making sure the pup followed behind. You already had a pillow and cover ready for him, the bed being a little too weird and soon to offer up. He climbed in without your encouragement, seeing how tired his body was as he relaxed into the cushion. You could see the sleep on his eyelids wanting to welcome him, straining to keep awake as he watched you bent down.

“You can stay, as long as you like. If you want.” You blurted, finally saying what you wanted. This was all a bit sudden, and this could be taken in a lot of different ways but most of all you wanted to help someone in need. That was the Dahyun thing to do, and you wanted to at least put it out there someone wanted to help him. His tired eyes stared at you, tired blinks you counted up to three before you glimpsed at the small smirk forming on his face.

“My name’s Jimin.”

It was your turn to blink before your mouth formed an ‘o’ and a smile spread over your face. You nodded your head and introduced yourself again before saying goodnight, heading off to your bedroom with hopes of what tomorrow would bring.

It brought pain.

You stood in your living room, staring at the spot where your tv and devices used to be counting up the amount of money lost with each item. The pup had stolen the electronics in your house and whatever he considered valuable, as you found the couch empty the early morning you woke up. Luckily he didn’t sneak into your room where your wallet and computer were, at least you could keep those to yourself. As much as you should be hurting, you weren’t surprised. Hybrid or human, men were still trash.

You dragged yourself back to bed, not bothering to look for the thief or attempt to rebuy what was stolen. You didn’t have it in you to report him or ask around, just hoping it brought him a little spending money as you will yourself to go back to sleep. This was expected as much, you were a fool. A pitiful, naive fool. Fuck good intentions, you will never do another good thing for any being anymore. You dreamt about becoming an asshole version of yourself, even daydreamed about it when you woke up and went about your day all the way to readying for work. All the way down to the bar, promising yourself you would never lend a helping hand to anyone ever again. Even as you entered through the door and greeted your friend Nari and the new co-worker named Chaesol, you were readying yourself to announce you were turning over a new leaf. A new leaf that only brought pain as the sole customer at the bar turned around, familiar dark eyes giving you their attention as a sly grin spread across his face and his brown tail wagged.

#hybrid!au jimin #bts hybrid #bts hybrid au #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop hybrid au #jimin scenario #bts jimin #jimin #jimin hybrid au #oxhaven

133 notes · View notes